


Living the Adventure

by TheShinyLizard



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Alternate Universe - Gender Changes, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, F/M, Female Bilbo, M/M, Modern AU, Modern Bilbo, Modern fem!Bilbo in Middle Earth, No OCs, Rule 63, That's the basic plot, Thilbo, bagginshield, fem!Bilbo, fembilbo
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-07-23
Updated: 2015-01-05
Packaged: 2017-12-21 01:50:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 35,766
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/894381
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheShinyLizard/pseuds/TheShinyLizard
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It wasn't supposed to go like this. Bilbo Baggins lived happily in Devon. She had everything she needed right there. She didn't want to go to Middle Earth. She didn't need 13 dwarves on her doorstep. She didn't have to accompany them on a mad mission to reclaim their home but that's what she is doing and she will see it through.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Not Everything goes According to Plan

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I realized something after going through the stories on ao3. Bilbo is thrust into an adventure. (S)he has no association with these dwarves prior to the unexpected party. I thought it would be an interesting twist if Bilbo is from the modern world (where this is no Tolkien) and planted into Middle Earth.

“Dwalin, at your service, miss.” The barrel chested dwarf said as he bent at the waist. Bilbo kept her hand on the door frame, eyes slowly widening as she took him in. Her mind took a moment to reboot because the dwarf had just said his name was Dwalin. That couldn’t be right because Dwalin was a dwarf warrior, a character from her book.

That was not how her evening was supposed to go.

Not that her evening had been planned down to the minute but she had started the day thinking it would be one where she could relax and work on her writing.

That was why she was at the tea shop that morning, sipping a nice cup of hot tea as she watched the crowd mill about. She was so thoroughly enthralled in watching the crowd that she didn't notice someone approach her outside corner table. A tall elderly man dressed in grey slacks and wearing a pale blue pullover stopped in front of the table. He leaned on a grey cane.

“Ah, Bilbo Baggins.”

Bilbo startled. “Good morning.” She said.

“What do you mean?” he said. “Do you wish me a good morning, or mean that it is a good morning whether I want it or not; or that you feel good this morning; or that it is a morning to be good on?”

Bilbo blinked, wrapping her mind around the question. “Rather, all of them at once," she said, "And a very fine morning to have tea. You could sit and join me.” It was polite to invite the person you're having a conversation with to sit at the table with you, as her father had taught her.

“No, no. I have not the time this morning. I am looking for someone to share in an adventure.” The elderly man tapped his cane on the concrete.

Bilbo nodded. Devon was hardly the Shire to choose to look through for the adventuring sort. “Nasty business those. Might lose your mobile and then where would you be without your GPS. Besides they can make you miss tea time. Now, if you’re looking for adventurers I might suggest London or Liverpool.” She pulled her mobile out of her purse and checked it.

Those damnable twinkling eyes watched her as she skimmed through her e-mails. “Good morning.” She said, huffing dramatically. In her mind the conversation was already over.

“What a lot of things you use good morning for,” He tutted. “Now you mean that you want to get rid of me, and that it won’t be good till I move off.”

Bilbo shifted in her chair, decidedly admonished even though she hadn't done anything wrong. It wasn't like she had approached a stranger (of course how strange could one be if they knew the other person’s name) in a tea shop and struck up a conversation. “It’s just- sir, I don’t even know your name.”

He introduced himself as Gandalf and it took Bilbo back. He was the very same man who used to come by the house with fireworks and would light up the night sky. It was Gandalf who encouraged  lads and lasses of Devon to run away on adventures; some of them never came back and those that did were never the same. As she recited her childhood memories Gandalf’s smile grew and the twinkle in his eyes sparkled ever brighter with each word.

“Well that’s quite a relief to hear that you remember me. Now- how is the writing going?”

“Oh it’s fine- fine. All fine, just stuck.” She mumbled, wondering how in the world Gandalf had known about her writing. Few people knew about her writing: her cousin Lobelia (who was adamant in setting Bilbo up on dates with obnoxious fellows) was also the only person who actually knew that Bilbo was a published author (because Bilbo used the excuse of writing to get out of many a date).

It wasn't as though she were a prolific author; she had only two books published, nothing more than little tales from her own adventures as a child. These adventures took place in a land called Middle Earth, or Arda as she later called it, which was inhabited by many creatures by tall and small, which was why all of her stories happened there. As a child sometimes she pretended she was a beautiful elf, tall with hair golden as the sun, who fought a mighty beast of smoke and flame, dreaded balrogs. Then she was a human woman, killing a mighty witch-king, one that could be killed by no man. Or she would be a dwarf, fighting for gold and jewels, under the powerful clutches of Gold Lust; which her mother would cure of her the madness with a kiss to her forehead, proclaiming that love could defeat anything. Her mother sometimes played along with her, and her favorite race was the Hobbits. Mother always liked the gentle folk of the Shire; she said the world needed the simple folk who shared a love for things that grow. 

Bilbo had an active childhood, but it died the same day as her mother. She became a proper Baggins that day, which was when she began to pen her adventures.

Her most recent published book involved a Dwarf kingdom, Erebor, being claimed by a mighty fire drake of the North, Smaug. The POV in the story floated between 11 dwarves about their flight through Middle Earth and what they had done to survive. Now she was working on the sequel called The Heirs of Durin which was about a company of 13 dwarves (and not all the same dwarves as before) on a quest to reclaim their home Erebor and the treasure from Smaug.

 Lately though she had hit a rough patch. She had her characters down and a solid set of events from fighting trolls, meeting elves, and going to the city of Laketown before they fought the dreadful Smaug. The ending was also established (because she liked knowing where her story was going) and in the end only three dwarves remained when the mountain had been reclaimed: the scribe Ori,  the Prince Under the Mountain Fili, and the miner (and tinker) Bofur.

“I will give you what you asked for,” Gandalf said, passing her a small red leather-bound book.

It had a red leather cover that was embossed in exquisitely fine detail with two hammers crossed on the front and the back, inscribed on the front in a ring of flowing gold letters was ‘There and Back Again.’ Bilbo flipped through the pages, noting that the unusual font that was on the cover was also present throughout the small book.

“Thank you Gandalf.” Bilbo beamed. She looked but found that he was gone. Bilbo shrugged, Gandalf would come and collect his book whenever he wanted it back. She slipped the book into her purse and went back to sipping her tea.

Later on that evening the book fell out of her purse. It dropped with a thud onto the kitchen floor while she was busy preparing dinner. It was a moment before she picked the small thing up and placed it on the arm of her plush sitting room chair. While dinner baked she would have a few minutes to read through the book and figure out why Gandalf gave it to her.

So while dinner was in the oven Bilbo sat down on the plush armchair. She folded her legs up and curled up on the seat; this was one of the few times where she was thankful she was so short (that she was in fact compact).

At that moment her night was going swimmingly, everything according to plan.

An abrupt and brusque knocking interrupted her reading. Bilbo slipped a spare sheet of paper into the book and set it aside. She grumbled as she made her way to the door, someone had interrupted her reading; a visitor who hadn't the decency to call ahead and announce themselves before their arrival.

At the door Bilbo paused. There was something distinctly off about Bag End as evidenced by the freshly painted green door with a shiny brass knob in the center. A halt was put to her ponderings when the knocking started up again in earnest. Which led to Bilbo remembering her manners and promptly opening the door. No guest could complain about the hospitality at Bag End, not while a Baggins lived there.

That’s when she knew her night was not going to go according to plan at all.

Bilbo leaned against the open door, staring wide-eyed at Dwalin, her mouth gaping open- so too was her dressing gown which she bashfully tied up. “Miss?” The dwarf prompted.

He was a fairly large dwarf with a bald and faintly tattooed head. It seemed all of his hair was concentrated around his mouth in a full black beard that was interlaced with wisps of silver and grey. Scattered in various places over his body was an armory’s worth of weapons.

“Bilbo- Bilbo Baggins, at your service.” Her hands trembled as she clutched at the patchwork dressing gown. There was no way she could tell Dwalin that he wasn't allowed in her house. Those weapons on his back weren't for decoration.

Without as much as a by your leave or a please come in, the dwarf swept passed her. He took off his cloak and hung it up on one of the pegs in the front hallway.

“Is it down here?” Dwalin stomped down the front hall. Bilbo followed his curious glances, taking in the house.

It seemed the basic layout of Bag End had remained the same; if it hadn’t she doubtlessly would’ve noticed the transformation earlier. Other things had changed though. The hallway was circular and everything in the house seemed round, more accommodating to someone of a larger girth than it was to those of greater height. Bilbo couldn’t complain because she fit inside the house perfectly. Some part of the house still had a queer homey feel to it, even if she didn’t recognize the architecture completely.

“Lassie, where’s the grub?” Dwalin eyed her irritably.

“Oh, um... I- I believe it’s this way," Bilbo stuttered. She went in the direction of the kitchen. Her dinner should be ready soon.  It wouldn’t be hard to make two plates out of it.

Surprisingly Bilbo’s dinner was already plated and on her table, still steaming as if she had just taken it out of the oven. Like his brusqueness earlier Dwalin sat and ate her dinner. Bilbo took a seat to the side, her stomach churning as she watched someone else eat her dinner. She fumed in her corner but didn’t say anything. The Baggins were the epitome of the perfect host and she wouldn’t ruin the hard earned reputation; as such she wouldn’t say anything about her guest, no matter his manners or lack thereof.

Dwalin finished her dinner and asked for seconds. Bilbo, unaccustomed to her ‘new’ kitchen, searched for a moment before she saw the jar of biscuits. She passed them over to the dwarf who eyed them greedily.

A series of resounding knocks broke the stagnant silence. Bilbo jumped, glancing about. Dwalin looked over at her expectantly, finishing the pint of ale. “That would be the door.” He stated; his brows arched.

Bilbo resisted the urge to snort; it wouldn’t do to anger someone who could beyond a shadow of a doubt tear her limb from limb without breaking a sweat.

She went back to the round green door, her hands clenching and unclenching, whatever dream she was in she would very much like to wake up already. This was quite enough ridiculousness for one night. She already had one dwarf. She didn’t need another visitor.

“Balin, at your service miss.” The dwarf politely bowed.

Balin was exactly as she had imagined him, down to the pearly gray and white plaited beard. Polite as could be, Balin was considerate and waited for her to recover from the brief shock of seeing another member of the company at her doorstep; unlike his brother, Dwalin, Balin didn’t prompt her.

“Good evening?" She said after a moment. Too shocked and stunned to say anything.

"Oh, I think it's going to rain later," Balin said. He stepped inside. Bilbo hurried to move out of the way. She glanced surreptitiously out the door.

Where was her porch? And her drive way? What was going on? Where were these dwarves coming from?

What were dwarves doing here? What was she doing here? This wasn't her Bag End. Bilbo whimpered, feeling put out. If tonight held anymore surprises then she was going to faint. If that happened then who knew what the dwarves would get up to.

“Thank you,” Balin said before walking past her. Dwalin had come out of the kitchen and upon seeing his brother greeted him boisterously, hugging him close before knocking their foreheads together.

The two dwarves walked off for the kitchen, Balin commenting about moving something to fit everyone in. Bilbo followed along behind them, confused. What in the world was she doing here? She wanted to go home, but where was home? Alright, it was time to face the other problem in her house, the two dwarves. She was going insane- no doubt about- she was certifiably insane. She was going to drive to the hospital in the morning and request a cat scan. For now though she needed her house to herself while she sorted things out.

“Uh, excuse me; sorry, I hate to interrupt- but the thing is, I’m not entirely sure you’re in the right house," Bilbo said. She was trying to sound firm but still polite. It was uncouth to turn out guests, even unannounced ones.

They didn't seem to be paying her the slightest attention as the two dwarves scrounged around through her pantry. What on earth could they be looking for? She tried peering over their shoulders. All to no avail since even then she was still considerably shorter than the dwarves. That didn’t seem right though since dwarves weren’t that tall and she was a human (albeit a short one but still human).

“It’s not that I don’t like visitors; I-I like visitors as much as the next girl, but I do like to know them before they come visiting," Bilbo said. She crossed her arms over her chest, imitating her cousin Lobelia who was the most direct person she knew. “The thing is, um, I, I don’t know either of you, not in the slightest. I don’t mean to be blunt, but I uh, but I had to speak my mind. I’m sorry.”

The dwarves stopped what they were doing and looked back to her. Balin nodded once and somberly said, "Apology accepted."

Bilbo breathed a sigh a relief but that quickly turned into a frown when the dwarves continued ransacking her pantry. "Excu-" Bilbo started but a knock at the door interrupted her. Bilbo groaned, glancing between the two dwarves in her pantry and looking in the direction of the door. It would be faster to turn her next guest away.

She opened the door much slower this time. What she saw stopped her heart. She hadn’t predicted two dwarves. For that matter she hadn’t expected two hot dwarves. That thought left her stunned. She hadn’t predicted that a dwarf could even be attractive.

“Fili-” The blonde dwarf said. The two braids framing his mouth twitched as he talked.

 “Kili-" The dark haired dwarf said, younger looking than the other and lacking a full bushy beard.

 “- at your service miss Boggins.” They said in perfect unison.

The dwarves stared at her in expectation. And also like that were blatantly undressing her. She shuddered, caught between slamming the door in their pretty boy faces and simply staring at them until she had her fill of their pretty boy faces. Their staring though unnerved her, and she suddenly remembered that she had not properly greeted her guests. “Oh- Bilbo Baggins, at your service.” She bowed quickly.

The way the two grinned at her, their eyes mischievous, Bilbo would have blushed and walked right on by them if she were in Devon, but she wasn’t and they were guests at her house. Bilbo tried to keep the blush from staining her cheeks too horribly or at least too conspicuously. Judging from the way their smiles turned into smirks she hadn’t been successful or lucky. Of course what else could she expect from two of the heirs of Durin. She knew who Fili and Kili were. They were the sons of Dis, the sister to Thorin.

There were already two dwarves in her house, how could she possibly handle four- let alone how could she handle thirteen dwarves once the rest of the company trickled in. She needed time; she tried closing the door but Kili put a foot out before she could shut it.

“Is it cancelled now?” He looked aghast to his brother.

“No, nothing’s cancelled-” Bilbo hurried to explain. Before she could get any further the brothers were pushing the door back open and Bilbo had to follow or else she would’ve fallen and ended up in a rather graceless mess on the floor. Which wasn’t how she preferred her meeting the dwarves to go.

“Oh good.” Kili and Fili walked in, shedding their cloaks along the way. Kili hung his up on a peg but Fili turned to her and started handing over every weapon on his person. All the while, the blonde prince crookedly grinned at her, as if he knew something that she didn’t; which she thought was unlikely because she had written this story.

Fili glanced to her side. Bilbo noticed that Kili was standing next to her. The brothers exchanged impish grins before looking back to her.

Thankfully, before they could start any of their devious ideas, Dwalin and Balin came in and welcomed the two princes. Balin and he enlisted their help in moving things around to make room for the rest of the company. Thirteen dwarves. Bilbo cringed at the thought of the damage they would wreck on her home.

“Is everything alright Miss?” Balin inquired.

Bilbo stammered, “Certainly, everything’s fine.” She was still laden down by the pile of weaponry that the princes had seen fit to give her. “I’ll be back in a moment, please make yourselves at home.” She glanced around for somewhere to drop the bundle, noting a wooden trunk with mud scarped on it, shrugging before setting the pile of weapons upon it. Funny enough, there was a chest like that at her old home.

Noises came from the kitchen where it sounded like someone was trying to drag something heavy across the floor. Bilbo didn’t question it though, or try and find out. There were dwarves in her home, dwarves who were on a quest to Erebor to reclaim their home under the mountain from a dragon. And if she was right, which she considered was highly probable because already there were four out for the thirteen dwarves from the company in her kitchen right now doing only god knows what, then nine more dwarves were on their way.

Running around her house in her dressing gown was less than appealing.

In her bedroom, Bilbo tore off the dressing gown. The comfortable outfit she had been wearing in Devon had transformed with the house and it was now the Middle Earth equivalent: an off-white chemise that had obviously seen better days (just like the loose white top she had been wearing at home) and a dark green skirt that cut off slightly above her feet so that the hairy tops were visible (she grimaced when she noticed how hairy they were), plus a stormy grey bodice which she hadn’t been wearing in Devon but now she was (it’s not like it was the strangest thing to have happened to her that day so she didn’t question it). It wasn’t the most attractive outfit, and certainly not one she would’ve chosen if she knew visitors were coming.

She didn’t have time to change as there were another series of loud knocks demanding her presence at the front door.

Bilbo hastened to the door, smoothing out her skirt along the way. She wondered who the next dwarf at her door would be. Anticipation gnawed at her stomach, reminding her that she hadn’t eaten yet and it was high time that she did.

She took a deep breath before opening the massive round door, calming her racing heart. It wouldn’t do to appear too excited at the characters coming to life before her. Who knew how long the spell, or whatever she was under would last. A loud crash sounded from the kitchen and before she could even question what had happened there- she had yanked the front door open.

An avalanche of dwarves tumbled into her front hall, nearly knocking her over. They would have if it weren’t for several quick and nimble steps back. The worst of it though was Gandalf.  The batty mad old man stood behind all the dwarves. He wore a gray robe and a tall pointed blue hat, leaning on a wooden staff as he chuckled while the dwarves righted themselves.

Bilbo’s eyes narrowed and she resisted shouting vehemently at the batty man. Instead she channeled all of her rage and ire at him into greeting the dwarves, passive aggressively ignoring Gandalf, though he didn’t seem to notice.

The dwarves eventually righted themselves and started a series of rapid fire introductions. If she hadn’t already been familiar with the story and characters she would’ve been confused.

The ‘Ri brothers were the first to introduce themselves. Dori bowed low and offered her his humblest apologies for almost barreling her over. He had a perfectly braided white beard. He then introduced the youngest member of his family, who was also the shyest, little Ori. She wanted to squeal with delight when she saw him, he was adorable. She recognized the scribe from knitwear he wore and the ink stains on his fingers. Dori then excused himself and went for the kitchen, ushering Ori along. The last ‘Ri brother to introduce himself was Nori whose star pointed hair was braided together to his eyebrows. He had a sneaky, mischievous grin on his face when he introduced himself, bowing but keeping his head up, eyes searching the entryway, seeing at everything. She resisted the urge to hide the good silverware, though it where it was exactly in this hobbit hole she didn't know.

The next three dwarves to introduce themselves was the ‘Ur family. All three of which were distinctive. Bombur was a rotund dwarf, his size was his most recognizable feature. He also didn’t say anything to her as he bowed and then disappeared, sweeping away into the kitchen. Of the three, Bofur did the talking. He told her Bombur’s name (even though she didn’t need him to say it) and introduced his cousin Bifur, the one with the axe stuck in his head and who could only speak in the secretive Dwarven language of Khuzdul. When she had wrote about Bifur in the story, she hadn’t given much thought to how terrifying it would be to see an axe embedded in someone’s skull. She struggled not to flinch when Bifur tried talking to her, speaking roughly in Khuzdul. Bofur, a charming sweet fellow, translated. Bofur also had a ghastly sense of humor. He apologized for the tumble into the hall, saying that it was good she was quick or she might’ve been squashed to death – and grinning as he said that. While he spoke his head bobbed up and down along with the oddly shaped hat that he wore.

The ‘In brothers waited until everyone else was done. Bilbo couldn’t help the small giggle that escaped her mouth when Oin pulled out a horn to hear her. The ruckus in the kitchen had grown louder with each additional dwarf which was why he probably he needed it right then. Gloin was brusque and to the point; afterward he shepherded his brother into the kitchen.

By now, Bilbo would be happy to continue ignoring Gandalf and head straight was for the kitchen as she was well and truly curious as what all the fuss was about. Also, she would inspect for damage the dwarves had already committed. But she didn’t. She did however finally allow the scowl through.

“Gandalf.” She tried to gaze as sternly as she could at him while he hassled navigating through the small house (this caused no small amount of glee) as he was too tall and he had to bend over so his head wouldn’t hit the ceiling.

A loud crash startled her and she was off to the kitchen, fearful of the havoc that the dwarves could cause. All thoughts of chastising the eccentric man vanished.

What she came to was a mess. A veritable raid. The dwarves were ransacking her pantry.

“No. No-give me that.” Bilbo tried protesting, grabbing at items but her attempts were feeble. The only time she managed to snag anything it was from Ori, who flushed and ran from her rage, and Bilbo felt ashamed at hassling the poor dwarf. The dwarves pushed and shoved her aside constantly. So much so that the bowl of tomatoes she had managed to snatch from Ori flew out of her hands. Before it could hit the ground and spray tomato everywhere Bifur caught it.

Nori walked out of a side room carrying her best dishes. He had the biggest grin on his face like he had found the holy grail of dinnerware sets. She would have to search her house later and make sure nothing was missing. Though if the way Dori was following behind him was any indication she might not have to, the eldest Ri' brother seemed intent on keeping his younger brother in line.

Fili and Kili carried a barrel of ale through the hallway and Bilbo fluttered after them, her hand covering her mouth; what could she do, these dwarves were invading her home.

They were going to empty her pantry before she could have even a bite for dinner.

Bilbo stopped focusing on preventing the dwarves from emptying her pantry and instead started nabbing bits and pieces from the plates and trays as the dwarves marched out of the pantry. She managed to snatch an apple and a few biscuits. The cheese was long gone. Bombur had left the pantry earlier carrying several wheels of cheese in hand. He eyed them like a businessman eyed coffee in the morning. She wrote the cheese of as a casualty of the raid.

Bilbo found a spot in the corner and munched on her meager supper. It wouldn’t fill her up but it was better than nothing.

The dwarves were a riotous mess, tossing food across the table and laughing when someone caught it in their mouth. Kili and Fili at one point danced on the table, sloshing their mugs of ale. Poor Ori caught in between them but instead of looking scared and frightened, he excitedly watched the proceedings, even going so far as to joining in on Kili and Fili’s ridiculous drinking contest.

Gandalf was no help; the batty old man laughed merrily and smoked at his pipe, one of the dwarfs even offered him a glass of wine from her pantry. Bilbo shuddered at the implications of her hostessing skills. Honestly though, she hadn’t been prepared to accept so many guests into her house, and for them to start what closely resembled a fraternity party in her house, she was woefully close to blowing her top.

She did manage to drag Gandalf out for a chat away from the blasted dwarves. Gandalf was batty and downright unhelpful as Bilbo wailed about the dwarves. He encouraged her to get along with them.

“Excuse me,” sweet, young, innocent Ori politely interrupted their conversation. Bilbo did well to smile at the young dwarf. It wouldn’t be nice to scare him off like she did earlier. Of all the dwarves tonight Ori had been the least offensive. “But what do I do with my plate?” He asked, holding said plate aloft.

She didn’t want the dwarves breaking her plates. At least Ori had been gracious enough to ask what to do because Bilbo was happy to help him. Fili walked up then, before Bilbo could do anything to save her precious dinnerware. “Here you go Ori, give it to me.” Fili took the plate from the young dwarf without giving Bilbo a chance. He tossed the plate around Gandalf’s side, to his brother Kili, who then tossed it off into the kitchen to god knows who because there were no sounds of shattering.

“Don’t break those plates!” She tangled her hands in her skirt and tried not to lash out at the dwarves, especially not poor Ori, who was amused and scared just like her as they watched the plates and bowls be tossed around the house. Fili at one point managed to bounce the bowls on his shoulders like some circus act, smirking and grinning at her like this would somehow endear him to her. This most definitely was not endearing him to her, not one bit, not no how.

Bilbo stalked to the kitchen where all the dwarves had started banging the cutlery on the table.

“Don’t do that- you’ll blunt them.” Bilbo admonished the dwarves, trying to sound stern and not at all shrill as she lost control of her house.

They chuckled in response.

“Oh you hear that lads? She says we’ll blunt the knives.” Bofur looked to the others at the table, grinning.

She truly had no control in this house and quite possibly no control in Middle Earth. This was her world. She created it. She should have some power here. But she didn’t and the dwarves were singing loudly about what she hated.

Bilbo growled in frustration.  She followed Fili as he darted about, tossing the plates. She barely caught sight of the dwarves piling dishes in Ori’s hands. The young dwarf was bewildered as the stack grew and grew. Bifur, was at the sink, scrubbing the plates until they shined.

The dwarves kept a merry tune, singing and dancing as they cleaned the plates. Only to present their accomplishment to her at the song’s end with all the plates on the table. Bilbo wanted to smack them all right then, even if they somehow were able to toss the plates and clean them without breaking a single one.

A number of the dwarves clapped her on the back, a few of them too hard because Bilbo had to brace herself from almost falling over at the rough slaps.

Everything paused when another knock sounded at the door. Absolute silence reigned in the house for the first time since the dwarves arrived.

Bilbo mentally tallied each dwarf off, trying to figure out who was late. She gave up, finding it impossible to try to remember which dwarf she had already counted.

She huffed to the door, pleading with whatever god or gods were still out there and listening that this dwarf wouldn’t be as much trouble as the others. Hoping maybe that those same gods could send her a nice quiet dwarf- or a kitten; she would happily take a kitten over these rambunctious dwarves.

Bilbo didn’t move for a second as she stared at the dwarf who had been the last to arrive.

She hadn’t expected this. This man, man-dwarf. He was quite tall for a dwarf. He had long dark hair twisted and braided in places, pulled away from his face. His eyes were a piercing shade of blue. Her knees went weak as she looked at him. His gaze was curious as he glanced her over. Her heart fluttered in her chest and she glanced away. When she looked back to him the soft expression he had when she opened the door had vanished. His countenance had become severe and stern.

“So this is the hobbit,” He said. His voice was deep. It rumbled through her. She clenched her fists in her skirt. Now wasn’t the time for crushes or anything. Even if the dwarf was quite handsome.

A hobbit? Bilbo Baggins was a hobbit now? She was part of the smallest race in Middle Earth and one of the most useless at that. They were the hedonists of Middle Earth, living in the Shire working happily as farmers while the world of the big folk moved on ahead of them, why they couldn’t even ride a horse because of how small their stature was. Even if they were created by her mother Bilbo would have chosen a more useful and majestic race to be in Middle Earth than a hobbit. Bilbo tenderly brought a hand up to her ears, slightly fearful; if she was a hobbit then she would have the ears too. She fingered the rounded edges, tracing the edge until it tapered off into a delicate point. She squeaked, quickly covering her mouth as she blushed hotly. The mouse like sound earned a quizzical look from Thorin.

 “Axe or sword? What’s your weapon of choice?” He asked. The entire company stood around watching them.

Bilbo tried to think of something that fit into Middle Earth, “I can play a mean game of conkers.” She stood tall, her full height barely reaching his chin though.

 “She looks more like a grocer than a burglar.” Thorin disdainfully said.

“I beg your pardon.” Bilbo said indignantly, arms fluttering at her sides as she turned around following him.

Thorin snorted derisively at her comment, dismissing her and joining his company of dwarves. They led him to the kitchen where he sat at the head of the table, staring down as if hoping that something would magically appear in front of him. When nothing did Thorin looked purposefully over to her, haughtily raising a brow in silent exasperation. Bilbo harried about her kitchen, thanking whatever god that was out there that everything seemed to have transformed without really changing places.

She prepared a simple soup from the scraps that she managed to scavenge from the wreckage that was her kitchen and pantry, setting it in front of Thorin before taking a place behind the dwarves in the doorway. The dwarves had eaten her out of house and home; she would have to go shopping when she returned to Devon, just in case the food didn’t magically reappear when she went home.

She couldn’t fathom how she was supposed to go back home. The red book Gandalf had given her was still in her study, she could try to read it again and maybe it would send her back to Devon.

The dwarves were speaking about their quest to reclaim their home, Erebor. They needed someone light on their feet to sneak past a dragon, Smaug, a fire drake from the north. Bilbo agreed with their comments. When writing she had never truly thought about it but they did need someone who was light on their feet, quick and nimble. They needed an expert burglar.

“Well are you?” One of the dwarves asked, Bilbo thought it was Gloin.

“Am I what?” Bilbo asked. She leaned over Thorin’s shoulder to look at the map on the table.

One of the dwarves must have mistaken her because he shouted “She said she’s an expert!”

Bilbo tried protesting; she had never burglared before in her life and now these dwarves seemed to think she was an expert. At least Balin had the right of it; he could tell she wasn’t a burglar.

“Enough! If I say Bilbo Baggins is a burglar, then a burglar she is.” Gandalf thundered, his voice coming out as a low rumble. He towered above every person. The corner in which he stood grew dark behind him.

Bilbo trembled, hands immediately latching onto the first thing near her- which happened to be the back of Thorin’s chair; she hoped that would go unnoticed. She had never seen Gandalf react so vehemently. It was terrifying to behold. But the darkness surrounding him only lasted for but a moment, the lines creasing his face familiarly. He seemed to groan as he lowered himself back into the chair and then explained why he had chosen Bilbo as the fourteenth member of the company.

Bilbo hadn’t give much thought to the hobbits being good for sneaking. They hadn’t seemed to be of much good beyond their farming and cooking skills.

“Give her the contract.” Thorin stated.

Balin handed her a scroll. It certainly was a contract, longer than any terms and conditions she had ever read through before but it was easier to read through than the Apple terms and conditions which had been a perplexing nightmare of legalities.

“Laceration…Evisceration- Incineration?” Bilbo indignantly sputtered, looking back to the dwarves for clarification.

Bofur perked up, cheerfully explaining, “Oh aye, it’ll melt the flesh of your bones in the blink of an eye.”

Suddenly dizzy, Bilbo bent over, hands on her knees. They wanted her to sneak past the Smaug, were they insane? She couldn’t think clearly, eerily similar to the dizzy spells that she had had in her youth. She tried catching her breath.

“Are you alright there lassie?” Balinasked.

Bilbo nodded, still feeling faint. Why did the Gandalf have to choose her, she would have happily stayed in Devon, in fact that sounded like a grand idea, she would be happy to stay at home all day curled up on the sofa with a good book and some hot tea or even her notepad writing away about someone on a grand adventure.

“Just think furnace with wings-” Bofur supplied, trying to be helpful when in all honesty the thought of a furnace was not helping matters at all, not one bit.

 “I eh, I need air.” Bilbo stuttered, trying to articulate what she needed but she couldn’t even fathom it. The world started to shrink and she desperately wished it would stop.

“-Flash of light, searing pain, then poof- you’re nothing more than a pile o’ ash.” Bofur continued.

When had the air gotten so warm in here, Bilbo thought, her mind a muddled mess that she couldn’t make sense of at the moment. She struggled straightening up, trying to put on a good face when she could feel everything seizing up. She knew it was going to happen and no matter how hard she tried to fight it and to stay calm and breathe deep there was no way to prevent the sudden and strange sense of vertigo. She did however have one last thing to say before she fell to the ground, “Nope.”

Waking up was a chore, she wanted to go back to sleep even though she was having an awful dream about being in Middle Earth- and she was a hobbit. If she was going to be a character in her series than at least she wanted to be a tall graceful elf. She could have the long luxurious hair and the longevity of life, and then she could look down on people for once, she could reach things on the top shelf without having to stand on her tip toes anymore. There wasn’t anything overly special about the Hobbits, besides the fact that they valued food, drink, and cheer above all else in the world. They weren’t renowned warriors or great thinkers, but they were some of the best cooks in all of Middle Earth. So if she was going to dream about living in Middle Earth than she would like to be someone of importance, not a simple Hobbit of the Shire.

When she opened her eyes, she found to her dismay that Gandalf sat in front of her; right then she wanted nothing more than to wrap her hands around his neck and wring it tightly and then to throttle the batty old man until he was blue in the cheeks. He watched her, his eyes twinkling, damnably twinkling as if he knew the effect all of this had on her. It was his damnable fault that she had fainted and she wanted to go back to Devon right now thank you very much; she would have none of this burglar and adventure business.

Gandalf looked away and Bilbo followed his gaze to the doorway. Thorin was leaning against the wall, watching her. He nodded once their eyes met before he turned back to the kitchen. The dwarf king had ensured that she was well before going back to his company, Bilbo didn’t know whether or not she should be touched at the small sign of caring.

She hadn’t had anyone care about her like that for a while. Her parents had passed away by the time she was just 18. The fell winter had claimed her mom and a few short years after that her dad passed away as well, dying seemingly of a broken heart. So it was strange to know that even though she had fainted, someone had cared enough to move her from the uncomfortable floor to her plush armchair.

The armchair. Bilbo frantically swept her gaze around the small room for the little red book that she had been reading when Dwalin had first knocked on her door thinking that maybe she could use it to somehow go back home.

“It won’t work you know.” Gandalf cryptically said as if reading her thoughts.

Bilbo leveled him with her best glare, “it has to.”

Gandalf shook his head, “You’re here for an adventure Bilbo, and you might as well enjoy it.”

“As what? Their burglar? It’s a half mad venture anyway and I know what happens-“

“Don’t be too hasty Miss Baggins, this is Middle Earth.”

“I wrote-“ Bilbo stopped at Gandalf’s harsh stare.

“I don’t believe this story has yet been written Miss Baggins- now, this is an adventure. You’re welcome to live the experience.”

Bilbo sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Can you promise that I will come back?”

Gandalf shook his head, long beard swaying with the movement. “No. And if you do, you will not be the same.”

She didn’t want to go on an adventure in Middle Earth. She wanted to be back home and lay under a warm blanket while drinking tea and reading the latest revision to her novel. This wasn’t her home, no matter how much it resembled it.

Bilbo shook her head. She wasn’t going to stay here forever; she would find a way home somehow. “Sorry, Gandalf, I can’t sign this. You’ve got the wrong person.”

She shook her head, leaving Gandalf behind in her sitting room. Passing by Thorin and Balin, she thought she heard them mention that they had lost their burglar. Seeing as how she had never signed the contract Bilbo thought they were a bit hasty in thinking that they ever had a burglar to begin with. There was no burglar in the story. It was about a bunch of dwarves on a mad quest to reclaim their home and she would not get pulled into this mad quest simply because Gandalf wanted her to go.

Bilbo would’ve pounded her head against the wall but she wasn’t sure how strong her head was, especially if this- whatever dream, spell, or hallucination thing continued. She didn’t want to end up living in Middle Earth with a concussion.

Playing the part of the dutiful hostess, Bilbo set out blankets and pillows for the dwarves. There were a couple of spare rooms that she freshened up. The house was suitable for guests to stay overnight if need be.

Once she finished putting the house to order for her guests, Bilbo went to her bedroom and sat back on the bed. There was a curtained window that looked out over the Shire. She could see the party tree and the winding twisting road that led to the market. There was another world at out there, a world beyond her books and her maps. She could explore a whole new world. But she didn’t want all that. She wanted to fall back into bed and wake up in the morning and be in Devon again; in her own bed or even sitting on the chair with that little red book back in her hands.

Something deep and soft reverberated through the house, dragging Bilbo from her thoughts. At first she considered the dwarves had found something to play with and she should be very scared. But she wasn’t scared enough to stay away from the noise- she went looking for it.

The noise became words, the deep thrumming of a litany of voices. She could pick out a voice or two there. “Far over deep the Misty Mountains cold…” Bilbo pressed herself against the wall and listened.

The dwarves sang about their home.

She didn’t know the dwarves could sing. In the story they had always been loud house ruffians with a staunch hatred towards elves and a penchant for a shoot first ask questions later mentality. Now though, they were shattering even her preconceived notions about them.

It would have been easier for her to accept their singing if they had been dismally horrible at it. But no, the dwarves were incredible. For each one joined their King in perfect harmony in singing the somber song, adding their voices to the slow melody.

Thorin’s voice lead the others, rising above them.  A deep baritone, it shook her core. She was sorely tempted to sit in front of the fire and fall asleep listening to his voice. For through their voices she could see the Misty Mountains and feel the fire of Smaug as it burned. This was a ballad which had been perfected after many years. They spoke of a home they missed, a home stolen from them. And treasure, Bilbo could see the treasure clear as day before her. The majestic hoard of the dwarves lay bare at her feet. The dwarves’ skill shined for all to see in the beautiful craftsmanship from the swords, armors, and sundry littering the cavernous floor. But the treasure had been lost to them as well, the true target of dragon Smaug. And this quest was as much about claiming that treasure as it was about reclaiming their home- for dwarves are drawn to gold.

Thorin looked behind him. Bilbo ducked back behind the wall, panting after almost having been caught listening in on such a private moment. She couldn’t move away though, she was caught up in the song and had to hear it to its end. She did know one thing, Thorin saw her; whether he was happy or not about her witnessing their singing she didn’t know.

The song ended on a deep groan. Bilbo sank against the wall, clutching tightly at her skirts; she needed to leave before they caught her. With a last pensive and longing look at the open doorway to her sitting room, Bilbo slipped away.

Morning came bright and early. A little song bird chirped outside her window. Bilbo wished she had a rock to throw at the damned lark for waking her up before her alarm clock had gone off. She groaned, shifting about in her bed and wondering what the time was exactly and if she had enough time for more sleep. She rolled over, blearily glancing around the familiar and yet unfamiliar room for her infernal alarm clock. Strange. It wasn't on her bedside table. Instead there was a little red leather book precisely where her alarm clock should have been.

Bilbo, mind still muggy with sleep, flipped through the pages of the book. The words weren't there anymore; all of the beautiful writing inside was gone now. It was a journal now, waiting for someone to write in it.

Bilbo pulled herself out of bed, the damnable dream from last night persisting. It had to be a fantasy, thirteen dwarves visiting her home and she a Hobbit in Middle Earth; it could never happen. She rubbed her eyes, breaking through the eye gunk that had settled in the corners overnight. She tugged on her dressing gown, tying it before she stepped outside her bedroom door, yawned, and headed for the kitchen.

Passing by her sitting room, Bilbo stopped. Arrested in her tracks she could only stare in the room at the contract on the table. Everything from last night rushed back to her. Reading the little red book and finding herself suddenly not in Devon anymore, the dwarves who had mysteriously shown up at her front door, and the batty old family friend, Gandalf, who had joined them. So it wasn't a dream then; she really was a Hobbit.

Bilbo couldn’t help but feel the eerie silence of the hobbit hole pressing in on her, the only sound coming from her. It had seemed perfect last night with all the dwarves, just the right size for such a large and unexpected party. Now though, all alone, the hobbit hole was entirely too large for one person. There was something missing. It needed boisterous laughter from multiple pairs of rambunctious brothers, heavy footfalls, and gruff grunts- a hobbit hole needed people, one person could never do.

Hobbits weren’t solitary creatures. They were socialable, thriving in the presence of others. They didn't worship food, they enjoyed it. Food was an excuse to meet with others. And now she was out of food and all alone in the shire.

Bilbo stared down at the contract. One mad adventure, with characters in story that she was writing so she would have an idea of what was going on at least, and whether she came back from it was still an unknown. There was one certainty that Gandalf had assured her of- she wouldn’t be the same if she returned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] _The Heirs of Durin_ isn’t the same as the Hobbit. Think of it like no Bilbo and no Gandalf. So no Beorn and skipping the Goblins and they skirt Mirkwood. Which will be discussed in later chapters because Bilbo doesn’t know all the events.
> 
> [2] Yes Bilbo’s childhood adventures are from Tolkien’s work.
> 
> [3] Some dialogue is directly pulled from Tolkien and from the Movie. I own neither of these. However I will take a few liberties because this is a different Bilbo, modern!Bilbo.
> 
> [4] The red book is meant to mimic the one we see Bilbo writing in but I tweaked its appearance for the purposes of this story.
> 
> So this is the first chapter, thought I might try my hand at this, if anyone is willing to beta and help me with this that would be awesome and much appreciated.
> 
> If you want to follow me I am theshinylizard on tumblr.


	2. Missing Modern Conveniences

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enjoy!

She was mad, completely, utterly, and hopelessly mad- madder than Gandalf even. Bilbo paused in the hallway, hesitating on where to go. This wasn’t her home in Devon, she didn’t know exactly where everything was; but this was still Bag End. Resolute, Bilbo searched the hobbit hole. She found a pack and started stuffing it, tossing in the first random articles of clothing and other sundry. She had an idea of what the journey could entail, the dangers the company and her might face, but she was also at a loss because she had never before gone camping or backpacking. It wasn’t like she was hopping on an eastbound train and traveling across Europe. There were no cars or trains or even planes here to ferry her. She had no previous experience to draw upon in packing her bag. Consequently she arbitrarily tossed everything she deemed necessary into the pack and then had to pull some things out because it was too full and she couldn’t carry it. Only when she could strap it on her back did Bilbo deem it satisfactory. She was ready.

The last thing Bilbo grabbed before she shut the round green door was the contract.

She didn’t spare much time to marvel at the serene land in front of the hobbit hole, the rolling hills and well-tended gardens, as she raced down the hillside. Someone yelled “Miss Bilbo, where are you off to?” sounding suspiciously like Hamfast Gamgee from Devon.

“Can’t talk- I’m already late” She yelled back.

“Late for what?”

Bilbo giddily shouted “I’m going on an adventure!” She chuckled, jumping over a bush.

The contract waved behind her as she ran through the Shire, not really knowing which way to go as she followed her gut instinct.

That gut instinct carried her across fields and through a farm before she managed to find a road out which was sadly, despairingly empty. She did not falter in her steps though. Bilbo trudged on. She would find these dwarves even if she had to go all the way to Rivendell alone. She knew that no matter what, the dwarves had to stop in Rivendell. They needed to speak to Lord Elrond who could interpret the map for them.

Bilbo’s calves started to ache and then her stomach protested; she hadn’t eaten breakfast that morning (which it was unheard of for a Baggins to skip breakfast). She panted, each breath laboured as she scrambled trying to catch up with the dwarves. Desperation set in as Bilbo soon realized that she had no idea where she was in Middle Earth beyond the fact that she was somewhere in, around, or near the Shire. She couldn’t even begin to fathom where Rivendell was or how she would even reach it before the dwarves did, especially given her miserably slow pace.

What she recognized as the responsible and dependable Baggins side of her, chided her for running off into the blue without having a clue as to what direction to go or even a map (ignoring the fact that she also didn’t have a mobile with GPS which surely would have saved her if it worked in Middle Earth). All she had was a gut instinct saying ‘go that way’. That gut instinct was nigh unhelpful and most likely downright dangerous as she pounded the ground, whimpering at the sight of the unfamiliar landscape.

The only time hope was rekindled was when she thought she heard raucous laughter. There was somebody nearby, she wasn’t alone in the forest; she nearly shouted in joy. Spurred on by the sound of someone, right then she would be ecstatic to see just about anyone- Bilbo ran faster.

Bilbo caught sight of the company of dwarves as she rounded a curve. This time she did cry out in joy, waving the contract. “I signed it!” She yelled several times before someone called a halt and the entire company turned on their ponies to look back at her.

Bilbo stopped in front of them and stooped over, a hand on her knee as caught her breath; she held the contract above her head and somebody snatched it out of her hands.

“It seems everything is in order.” Balin nodded, looking over to Thorin. Bilbo beamed. She, a Baggins, was going on an adventure. Not just any old adventure where one might go camping in the nearby woods. No. This was an adventure with a company of dwarves on a quest to reclaim their home. Why she was chuffed just thinking about it.

Thorin shouted, “Give her a pony.”

“What? No,” Bilbo protested, “No, that won’t be necessary I can walk. I’ve got two fee-”

Two of the dwarves, Fili and Kili (Bilbo cursed the mischievous princelings), looped their arms under hers and picked her up. Her skirt waved loosely about as her legs dangled in the air. They held up her until a pony walked under and then they dropped her unceremoniously onto the pony’s back.

Sputtering, Bilbo frantically righted herself. She tugged at the skirt, trying to keep her modesty. If the quest continued like this she might be wearing those trousers she had brought along sooner than she thought.

Gandalf grinned at her side. She glared at him, seething at his mirth.

Something sailed over her head; Bilbo ducked. She watched as coin bags were tossed about. Gandalf explained the dwarves had taken bets on whether or not she would come, during which he caught a large bag of his own and chuckled, stating “My dear girl, I never doubted you for a second.”

“Well that’s go-” Bilbo’s face twitched, she rubbed her nose. “-Good to…” Bilbo sniffled, “to know.”

She sneezed.

Several dwarves chuckled as Bilbo rubbed at her nose again.

And she sneezed-again.

“Oh no.” Bilbo sniffled. Frantically she searched her pockets and dug through her pack. “Wait.” She called out. Every dwarf stopped. “We have to go back.” Bilbo tried turning her pony around but she wouldn’t budge an inch, stopped just like every other pony.

“What on earth is a matter, Bilbo?” Gandalf inquired, leaning closer.

“I forgot a handkerchief.” She tugged futilely on the reins.

Gandalf scoffed, shaking his head.

Bofur ripped his sleeve. “Here, use this.” He passed the rag over.

Bilbo accepted it, murmuring “Thank you” and held it away at arm’s length.

“Move on.” Thorin scowled, shouting from the front of the company.

Bilbo, properly chastised, looked down at her pony and rearranged the skirts to adequately cover herself. Her pony neighed and tossed her head back, the pony’s long mane smacking Bilbo. She tensed up, waiting for the next whipping attack.

 “There now, Myrtle is one of the gentlest ponies in Middle Earth.” Gandalf reassuredly patted Bilbo’s shoulder. “She is quite harmless.”

“I’ve never ridden before.” Bilbo admitted. She sat with her back straight and hands propped up high as she clenched the reins tightly.

“Don’t worry, Myrtle knows what to do.” The pony, upon hearing her name, tossed her head back and nipped at Gandalf’s grey cloak. He grinned, patting the pony on the nose.

Bilbo rode contently alongside Gandalf, casually observing the dwarves as they interacted among themselves. It was surreal, entirely unbelievable. If anyone had ever said she would meet the company of dwarves she would have called them loony and laughed them off. Because it was loony. It shouldn’t be possible at all but here she was among the very same dwarves in her novel (yet to be unpublished) The Heirs of Durin. It had to be a dream, a lucid and insanely realistic dream but a dream nonetheless. She could touch the dwarves and they could touch her. They weren’t words on a page anymore, personalities attached to names or abstract characters occupying space in her imagination. These were living, breathing dwarves. They were riding on ponies and going on a quest to reclaim their home of Erebor. And each one of these dwarves Bilbo personally knew- she created them.

Bilbo leaned surreptitiously closer to Gandalf, all but covering her mouth to hide what she whispered. “What do I say to them?” Her eyes never left the dwarves surrounding them.

“I imagine there are a great many things you could say.” Gandalf said, looking ahead.

“Where do I start though?” It’s not like she could ask Bombur what his favorite food was or inquire to Ori about his scribe work. While she was familiar with the dwarves, she was a stranger to them. They had never before met her, so how could she explain that she knew certain things about them without giving everything away.

“Hello might be a good start but it is up to you to decide.” Gandalf chuckled when Bilbo’s pony tossed her head back, hair flipping wildly. Bilbo sneezed and she rubbed at it with a hand.

She glowered at Gandalf. “Yes well introductions were last night,” Bilbo quipped, “they were a bit rushed. The dwarves were more intent on raiding my pantry and nearly destroying my crockery than introductions. After that it was join our rowdy band as we travel to Erebor and reclaim our home under the mountain.” Bilbo straightened in her saddle. She glanced, puzzled at Gandalf then to the front of the company. “How long will that take anyway?” Gandalf crooked a brow. “To travel to Erebor and reclaim the mountain.”

Gandalf chuckled. Bilbo cringed, that couldn’t possibly be a good sign. “If Thorin had his way we would arrive in two months’ time. However, the journey is likely to take at least several months maybe six to reach Erebor.”

“Six months?” Bilbo’s mouth slackened. Her mouth opened and closed several times, not uttering a sound. She sagged forward in the saddle.

“How long did you think it would take?” Gandalf asked her incredulously.

“I thought it would only take a few weeks,” She groaned, “maybe a month or two, but certainly not half a year.”

Gandalf shook his head. “These things take time.”

“And I’m stuck here.” Bilbo sighed.

Dejected, Bilbo looked back to where she had run from: what was happening to her Bag End in Devon? Hamfast Gamgee was the best gardener one could hope for, and he would probably care for Bag End and protect her mother’s silver from thieving hands while she was gone even with nary a word as to where she had gone and when she would return. Although, it was not proper for her to leave so inexplicably; no Baggins had ever done something so scandalous before, as long as one didn’t count her father marrying the daughter of the Old Took. The Took family’s infamous adventurous streak was known far and wide, in Devon and beyond the boundaries of the small shire. It wasn’t as if she could do anything about it now though, her home was in the modern world and she was stuck here until further notice.

Of course if this was the modern world than she wouldn’t be gone for months on a journey; they could take a plane, fight the dragon, put Thorin on the throne, and then she would be home enjoying her tea all within in a week. “This would be easier if we could fly.” Bilbo stated wryly.

Gandalf harrumphed, “And what would we fly on? The quest to Erebor is a Dwarven undertaking- not something for the Eagles.”

“Gandalf, Thorin wishes to speak with you at the front,” Dori said. Gandalf ushered his horse to the front.

Alone now, Bilbo truly was the proverbial third wheel, an outsider looking in.

It wasn’t that terrible being surrounded by dwarves; in fact she relaxed in her saddle. She could see the entire world around her safely, no fear for harm coming to her. It was different from riding in a train car or flying above the world. She saw everything. And she also smelled everything, even the annoying horse hair that irritated her nose enough that eventually she caved and used Bofur’s peculiar gift.

Although her stomach protested the lack of breaks soon enough. She didn’t mention it though. She wasn’t in Thorin’s good graces yet and it wouldn’t do for her to dig a deeper hole there either. Her stomach eventually settled and stopped demanding food.

Thorin set a grueling pace the first day. He was unrelenting as they traveled, hills giving way to flat land. The sun set behind them, casting long shadows on the ground when Thorin finally called for a halt. Bilbo yawned.

The first night, Bilbo plopped on the log and promptly fell asleep. Dori politely nudged her awake when dinner was ready. Someone had draped a blanket over her as she slept. She looked around rolling the blanket back up. No one came for the blanket and she it set against her pack.

The dwarves were positively jolly while they ate. This night wasn’t a food fight like last night. They were more civilized, possibly as civilized as dwarves could be, raucously laughing and singing bawdy shanties to an ungodly hour.

Bilbo sat next to Gandalf, nursing a headache. Riding in the sun all day and running- who knows how far- this morning had taken a lot out of her. She had moved her pack closer to the edge of camp, away from the loud dwarves.

They were up early the next morning. The sun hardly cresting over the eastern horizon when Dori considerately nudged her awake. Her inner thighs were strained and sore that morning while she walked around getting ready for the long day but she shrugged it off. Dori handed her an apple, a chuck of bread, and some cheese, a meagre breakfast but Bilbo thanked him nonetheless. The ponies were saddled and packed. Some of Myrtle’s bundles were shuffled around to the other ponies. When the ponies were ready Fili gave her a hand up. Not carelessly tossing her onto Myrtle’s back this time for which Bilbo was grateful.

They were nearing a bend when she heard voices. They (because there was distinctly more than one) spoke in a strange language she had never heard before. It was foreign and guttural and she had no idea what they were saying.

Bilbo strained to hear them, struggling to understand. If this was Middle Earth how come she couldn’t understand every language here? She was the author, the creator, and yet she was a hobbit forced onto a quest by a conniving old man and she only understood one language. She huffed in frustration.

The voices steadily grew louder. The dwarves, Bilbo noticed, bunched together.

Three tall men approached on horseback and each man towered over her. Their clothes were matted and ill fitted. Bilbo blanched as the Men neared them- they smelled worse than the dwarves. She breathed through her mouth, sitting up straight as they passed. The most interesting thing to Bilbo about these Men was their ears: they were rounded and curved like hers had been. Were these human men, she peered closer as they passed by her. Is that how she would have appeared if she were human in Middle Earth: her skin rough, teeth rotten, hair dirty, and riding a horse through the lands. Seeing the Men like that gave her pause in her discomfort in being a hobbit. Perhaps she had misjudged the mild mannered creatures. There was something pleasant about being a hobbit now: her hair was clean and she had all of her teeth, and she looked mostly unchanged except for the ears, height, and curlier hair.

The Men kept a wary eye on the company as they rode passed each other. One of the men, his hair a dark sandy blonde, swept his gaze over them. His eyes stopped and lingered on her. His head tilted to the side, a smile tugging at his mouth. He crooked his brow and lewdly licked his lips, leering at Bilbo.

Startled, Bilbo scooted her pony closer to the dwarves. The man said something to his companions and they started laughing, all three of the human men were now staring down at her, dragging their eyes down her petite hobbit body. Another man, this one had a mean scar running from his eyebrow across his nose ending just above his jaw, lecherously crooked his finger at her, his grin showing off his yellowed teeth. Bilbo tugged Myrtle closer to Bofur, looking pointedly away from the Men. She nudged Myrtle in the side, urging the pony to quicken her pace. The three men laughed jovially and one of them reached for her. She flinched. She couldn’t move any further away. She was already nearly pressed against Bofur, any more and she would push him off the track. Her hands clamped down on the reins. Her lips pursed into a firm line, refusing to speak and acknowledge the men. Her gaze locked to the front.

Sometimes, she had learned, the best option was to not get involved. Men were the same in Middle Earth and in the modern world. The Men would pass by them soon enough and the whole thing would be forgotten. No one would have to mention that strange men, vile, filthy, dirty men, Bilbo shuddered, were paying her attention because she was a woman.

The front of the company slowed down. Thorin moved to ride at her side, a stone wall blocking the Men. Bilbo saw out of the corner of her eye, Thorin holding his reins in one hand, his other hand on the hilt of his sword.

The sandy haired man from earlier came forward, his long legged horse easily catching up to them, and barked something.

Thorin glared, bellowing back in the same guttural language. Dwalin turned his pony around and shouted at the Men. Bilbo twisted in her saddle, looking back. Gandalf and several of the other dwarves had joined the ensuing argument. She grinned, glancing back to Thorin. He noticed her stare and nodded ahead.

The voices of men and the other dwarves grew faint. Dwalin trotted, catching up with the front of the company. What had those Men said, Bilbo glanced back, the line of dwarves was spread thin and the humans were nowhere to be seen.

Bilbo frowned, looking to Bofur. The jovial dwarf was still smiling, a good sign, but it was strained.

“Heave ho”

“Hammersmiths below”

Fili and Kili started on a song, their voices raised a rousing chorus from the company. The moment with the Men was all but forgotten as the tune continued. She huffed in her saddle. There went her chance of finding out what they men had wanted, even if she had an inkling.

That night when Thorin called for camp, Fili and Kili were the first to hop of their ponies. Fili passed his reins to his brother and offered Bilbo a hand. After dismounting from her pony with Fili’s aid, Kili handed Bilbo her pack and waved her off to follow the other dwarves. They rounded the ponies up and stripped them of their burdens, laying the various packs and sundry about in the campsite. Kili and Fili tended to the ponies; Dori worked with them, lifting each pony’s hooves and checking them, muttering to himself.

Pack in hand, Bilbo looked around, searching for something to do, some way to help. It wasn’t polite, her mother had taught her, to laze about when there was work to be done.  There was an odd synchronization in the dwarves. Thorin had to direct only a little. He never said anything to her. This left her standing the fool, confused as the dwarves hustled and bustled about. No clue as what she could do to help. Most of the dwarves discarded their packs around the log that marked the centre of their campsite and then returned to their duty. She sat down on the log, dropping her pack beside her and propping her chin on her hands. Maybe they would call her over if they needed her to do something.

Nori and Ori gathered the firewood (after setting their packs next to her). Oin and Gloin set the fire. Bifur, Bofur, and Bombur hefted the heavy pot over and started on dinner.

The ponies were settled down, their burdens stripped from their backs, and dinner was being taken care of; there wasn’t anything for her to do. Bilbo huffed; she was less than useless here. The dwarves had no need of her in setting up the campsite. They did all the work and here she was a bump on a log like her mother would say. It wasn’t as though she had gone camping like this before. They were roughing it. There were no RVs, trailers, or cabins; certainly none of the modern conveniences she was accustomed to.

Little groups formed as dinner cooked. Balin, Dwalin, and Thorin conversed with Gandalf, gesturing at a map. The Ur family worked on dinner. The Ri brothers settled on the other side of the log. Ori had a book out and was writing in it with a quill. Bilbo’s curiosity piqued and she wavered between asking what he was doing and staying quietly on her end of the log. It was his brothers that kept her where she was. Dori, the eldest, sat next to Ori and was redoing his younger brother’s braids, murmuring as he did so. Nori played with several daggers he had retrieved from various spots on his person, showing off a sleight of hand trick to the young princelings. The two watched, enthralled as a dagger disappeared seemingly up his sleeve before he pulled it out from his other sleeve. Nori grinned wickedly, catching her eyes and winking. Bilbo flushed and looked away.

The same conundrum from earlier plagued her: what could she possibly say to the dwarves, where could she start, and how could she not give away that she knew them fairly well already. She didn’t have a phone or a tablet with her to pass the time, playing games or reading books. Things would have been much better if she had brought a book with her which would actually fit into Middle Earth’s timeline because she could not even begin to fathom how she would explain what a tablet was.

Bored, she looked back to the four pouring over a map. Dwalin’s gaze wasn’t on the map, he was looking at little Ori who was sequestered next to his brother. Balin, noticing his brother was distracted, followed Dwalin’s gaze and chuckled. He tapped his brother on the back and pointed back to the map, whispering something that had the bald dwarf tensing. Bilbo leaned closer, willing her curved hobbit hears to hear what he had said. No such luck though.

“Here ya go, eat up lassie.” Bofur handed her a bowl of steaming stew.

“Thank you,” Bilbo murmured. She cupped the bowl in both hands. There wasn’t a spoon with it. Bilbo looked up, ready to ask about it but Bofur held one for her. She blushed, “Thanks,” accepting the utensil.

She blew at the spoonful of stew and took a small taste. Her nose instantly wrinkled. She smoothed her face and managed a shallow grin for Bofur. Sagging in her seat, she dug into the stew.

He nodded, returning to the pot. He called out “Soups on, come and get it.”

There was a flurry of movement as the dwarves abandoned whatever they had been doing at the moment to swarm the pot. Instead of breaking back into their groups, they massed around the fire. Kili prompted Bilbo to move over, making room for him on the end of the log and Fili sat down on her other side. Sandwiched between the royal princelings, Bilbo tried to stand and move away from them but they pleaded with her to stay. Bilbo sat back down. Their elbows jostled as they ate.

“So Miss Boggins-” Kili said, setting his bowl aside.

Bilbo stopped them before he could go further. “It’s Baggins, but please, you can call me Bilbo.”

“Well then, Miss Bilbo”

“Is this your first time”

The brothers were in perfect sync and Bilbo was getting whiplash looking from one and then the other.

“Out of the Shire?” Fili and Kili incredulously asked. Suddenly, it was quiet.

It was one of those inexplicable moments where everyone had been talking, so a conversation could remain relatively private, but then there is a brief lull and the right thing (or the wrong thing depending on how one looked at it) is said and everything and everyone goes quiet. Bilbo ducked her head, a flush heating her face. Not a sound in the campsite. All eyes were on her.

Bilbo shrinked back. The brothers were a firm barrier, keeping her locked between them, unable to run away. She pleadingly glanced to Gandalf.

“Yes.” Bilbo admitted.

“Hobbits rarely leave the Shire.” Gandalf came to her rescue, explaining Hobbits and their reclusive nature.

Bilbo ate her stew and listened intently to Gandalf. Enraptured, just like the dwarves, by his every word. Until he talked about a great uncle of hers who was big enough to ride a horse and invented golf when he swung and chopped an orc’s head off which then rolled into a gopher hole; though that story did have her choking back her laughter.

Aware of the looks the dwarves were passing between her and Gandalf, Bilbo waved away his amusing comments. “I do believe you made that last part up.”

Several dwarves snorted and Bilbo rolled her eyes.

“Well, all good stories deserve embellishment.” Gandalf said. He took his pipe out from inside his robe.

Bilbo wholeheartedly agreed with him on that front. There were certain things she was planning to keep out of the novel.

“Miss Bilbo, you are safe with us”

“Nowhere better”

“Stick close”

“We’ll watch over you.” The princelings hugged her, squeezing tightly. For two slender dwarves, they were surprisingly strong.

Bilbo pushed feebly at them. They shrugged the attempts off though they did stopped hugging her. Only Kili left his arm on her shoulder and Fili left his arm around the middle of her back.

She groaned. She would have dropped her head in her hands if it weren’t for the bowl; was there a possibility for seconds, Bilbo glanced up at pot. She could check, maybe the two knuckleheads would let her go so she could get seconds.

“No trouble will get you.”

“Certainly not-”

“Not with us around.”

Bilbo sighed, tucking a stray ringlet behind her pointed ears. She needed something to hold it back, hopefully it wouldn’t be too much of a bother during the trip or else she might have to cut it.

Bofur stood up and went for the pot. Bilbo, before the brothers could pull her back, joined him. The dwarf stirred the remaining stew. “Any chance for seconds?” Bilbo asked.

He looked up, his lips quirking at the corners. “Aye.”

She handed over her bowl and Bofur ladled some stew into it. “Thank you.” Bilbo murmured, accepting the bowl. Looking back, the princelings were together now in close conversation. There wasn’t any room for her there anymore.

“Missy,”Bofur said. He patted the ground next to him. He sat with Nori, who was idly twirling one of his blades. Bilbo joined them.

“You shoulda seen the look on Dori’s face, red as a ruby and flustered like a merchant given a low bid.” Nori wiggled his braided brows. Bilbo tilted her head, fascinated watching the two braids dance. “He clapped Ori’s ears so hard I’d be surprised if his head weren’t still ringin’.”

“Guessing he heard Bifur,” Bofur shook with mirth, pointing at his cousin with his spoon. Said cousin was occupied keeping Bombur away from the pot.

“No-” Nori grinned wide. Bilbo chuckled. “It was the men. Dori don’t care if the lad hears khuzdul, can’t keep the boy too innocent. But the Men.” He nodded his head.

“What about the Men?” Bilbo leaned forward.

The two dwarves looked at her curiously.

“Have you met Men before?” Bofur inquired, setting the bowl aside.

Bilbo eyed him warily, brow furrowing. She shook her head.

“Stupid blighters,” Nori muttered, tossing his knives.

“What did they say?” Bilbo set the empty bowl to the side. Bofur took it.

“You needn’t bother- we dealt with them.” Nori deliberately threw his knife and caught it, smirking wickedly.

“Chased them off, tails between their legs- shoulda seen the look on one of their faces when Nori here nearly sliced off his reins.”

Nori snickered, digging through his pockets. “I snagged something good for our trouble.” He pulled out a coin purse, jingling it. “Like I said, stupid blighters.”

Bilbo chuckled. “Think they noticed?”

“That’s the thing, even if they did, Dwalin over there,” Nori thumbed in the warrior’s direction, “scared them off.”

Dwalin, who was on the other side of the camp, ran a stone over his axes, sharpening them. He occasionally looked up, surreptitiously glancing over to Ori. And sometimes the sweet innocent dwarf would look up as well and glance as well at the warrior dwarf. Neither said anything or tried to get any closer to each other, as if the two didn’t even realize that they were watching each other.

“So what did they say though?” Bilbo insistently asked. Her curiosity well and truly piqued now. The dwarves were hiding something from her and whatever it was it had to be good.

Nori snorted. “Just wanting to know the price of something- we took care of it though, and taught them the price too.” He shook the purse.

“Think Thorin noticed?” Bofur nodded to their esteemed leader.

“Nah. Couldn’t have, Dwalin might’ve but he ain’t gonna say nothin’,” Nori picked under his finger nails with the knife point, flicking out the dirt that had gathered there. “It’s only fair compensation to their insult.”

“S’only fair.” Bofur agreed, picking up the empty bowls.

Nori tossed her the coin purse, “You should have it, Bilbo.” She reflexively caught it. She looked quizzically at it and then back at him, brow furrowing.

Bilbo didn’t pocket the purse immediately. It seemed strange that Nori, after stealing it off one of the Men, would pass it on to her. She hadn’t done anything and the men had never touched her, not matter how slimy their eyes felt when they wandered over her. Why wouldn’t the thief keep his spoils? “Why?” 

Nori scratched the back of his head with the knife, earnestly looking to Bofur. “Consider it repayment for last night’s hospitality.” Bofur tipped his head, the hat flopping comically on his head.

“Oh,” Bilbo smiled, “you are quite welcome; I am at your service.” Bilbo slipped the purse into the skirt’s pocket. Bofur dipped his head back and laughed merrily, clapping his hands on his knees. Bilbo jerked, what had set Bofur off this time. She made to ask the other dwarf but Nori rolled his eyes, picking under a nail.

“Gonna miss grub like that.” Bofur wistfully said, changing the topic. Bilbo nodded. There was something to be said about home cooking and restaurant food. “Never thought you’d have quite so full a larder but there was enough food for all of us.”

“Yeah, who would’ve known that a hobbit’s pantry could only feed thirteen dwarves one dinner.” She stated wryly, inspecting the dirt under her fingernails. She rubbed her hands together, noting the gritty sandy feeling covering her palms.

“Imagine breakfast the next morning. There’d be no food left.” Bofur blithely chuckled.

“Right,” Bilbo yawned, covering it with the back of her hand. “It’s late. Do you know when we’ll get a chance to wash up?”

Bofur and Nori shared twin looks, their eyebrows raised. “Not until we reach the next river.”

“Joy.” Bilbo muttered. She rubbed her hands on her skirt, it would have to do for now.

Bilbo stomped the ground with her foot and rolled her bedroll out, setting it on top. She wasn’t the only one winding down for the night. Others had started before her, one of them snoring.

It wasn’t the most comfortable of places to sleep. Last night she had fallen asleep quickly from exhaustion, tonight though, something kept her awake. Little things like the fact that a rock poked her back no matter how she twisted and turned or the fact that she was fully dressed (sans overcoat). She didn’t dare take off any clothes. Not that she suspected the dwarves would try anything untoward. It just wasn’t proper. She was a lady, no matter what the dwarves might think.

Bilbo lay on the ground, covering herself with the blanket. She blinked.

“Oh my god.” Bilbo exclaimed, her eyes widening. She sat up, covering the gasp before she could wake someone up. She looked around the campsite: other than the princelings on watch, everyone was laying on the ground with their eyes shut, either asleep or trying to go to sleep (she wasn’t really sure) but no one else was looking, no one else saw.

The stars. There were more stars than she could count spread across the night sky- and she could see each one clearly. The sky was free of clouds. Dropping her head back, Bilbo stared at the sky, taking in her fill. Some of the constellations were similar: she traced Ursa Major and Minor (the only two constellations she knew). It was a little piece of home in the unfamiliar world of Middle Earth. She smiled and laid back on the ground. Bilbo crossed her arms behind her head. It was as though she were in Bag End looking out her window at the dark sky and the few stars that broke through the pervasive light pollution. Here though, in Middle Earth, it was a brilliant starry night.

Gloin’s snores shattered the tranquillity. Instead of cringing at the boorish sound Bilbo shook her head, smiling congenially at the dwarf. Nothing could break this moment.

Bilbo yawned, stretching and relaxing. Exhaustion seeped in. She rolled her shoulders back, linking her fingers over her chest. And she stared at the night sky until her eyes grew heavy and weary, sleep finally claiming her.

The days and nights continued much the same. The days grew longer and so did their riding as they followed the sun’s journey across the sky. Slowly Bilbo grew accustomed to riding, the soreness in her thighs lessened after a week. It became routine: up at dawn, ride all day, around the sun’s peak someone would pass out something light, and then at dusk Thorin would call for the group to halt and set up camp. Fili and Kili would usually scout ahead for the spot and report back when they found a suitable campsite. Bilbo’s place in their motley caravan switched between the princelings where she listened to them laugh and joke and sing bawdy songs until she blushed and ushered her pony away from them which was when they would cackle and race to her and wrap their arms around her and either apologize or try to cheer her up by telling her an embarrassing story, or she was next to Bofur and Nori (either both or one or the other) who would chat with her. Gloin and Oin stayed near the middle, talking together or moving about and talking with either Dori or Balin. Bifur, when he wasn’t with Bofur, was with Bombur who brought up the rear. It was only when Ori wasn’t attended by his ever present brother that the line’s order changed and a race would occur between Nori, Dwalin, and Fili and Kili as to who could reach the scribe first. Dwalin, by virtue of being near the front couldn’t see when Dori left except for when the old dwarf moved ahead to converse with Balin, would steer his pony around and try to beat the others. Sometimes Nori would beat Dwalin. It was rare when Kili and Fili were the first to reach Ori, and sometimes the two would pick up Myrtle’s reins and drag Bilbo along with them. Gandalf popped in and out of their party, some days he was there and other days he disappeared only to show up later unannounced.

During the nights, after expressing displeasure at having nothing to do, Nori and Ori asked her to gather firewood with them and soon it was her job to collect firewood with the Ri brothers. During dinner she started sitting with Bofur and Nori and sometimes the princelings would sulk if she didn’t join them and on those nights she would sit beside them. The princes were young and Bilbo was always smiling in their presence, their effusive spirit was infectious. After dinner, some of the dwarves would pull out instruments and play a tune while others sang and other nights the dwarves split up into little groups. Dwalin and Ori stole furtive glances at one another.

After about a week of riding they came across a river and though the sun hadn’t started to set, Thorin called for the company to halt and make camp. Bilbo slid off the pony without assistance. She led the pony to Fili and Kili, and took her pack off of Myrtle’s back. The pony threw her head to the side and nipped at Bilbo’s overcoat. She good naturedly patted Myrtle away.

Logs were pulled into a rough circle and Bilbo tossed her pack against one of them, heading out with Nori and Ori for the forest to gather firewood.

“Burglar.” Thorin called. Bilbo halted. She had learned within the past week that that was her name, at least to Thorin. Dwalin called her that too but she suspected the reason why was most likely because Thorin called her that.

“Yes?” Thorin rarely called on her. She never quite knew what he was going to say. At least he hadn’t asked after her burglaring experience yet.

“Gather your things to bathe.” Thorin crossed his arms. “Gloin and Bombur will escort you.”

“Uncle-” The princes cried. One sharp look from Thorin and their protests died.

Bilbo gaped. While she had hoped for a chance to bathe, seeing as she was covered in a week’s worth of dust and dirt and her hair was a tangled mess of curls, she had hoped to go alone. “I can bathe by myself.” Bilbo insisted, tugging her pack back on to her shoulders.

Thorin waved her off, “You will be accompanied.” Gloin and Bombur were at her side. Gloin with an arm on her shoulders to lead her away. “I am perfectly capable of bathing by myself.” Bilbo shrugged off his hand.

“Aye lassie,” Gloin nodded. “Not in these parts though, no telling what’s out there. Don’t want anything to happen to ya. The others will be along soon enough, down the river.”

Bilbo snorted incredulously, walking ahead of them. She would find her own spot to bathe away from all the dwarves. “Confound and confusicate these dwarves.” She muttered, holding up a branch as she stepped under it.

Bilbo toed her foot into the water, ignoring the sprouts of hair on her foot. It wasn’t the most redeeming quality about being a hobbit but it wasn’t too bothersome, perfectly innocent really. Bilbo shuddered; the water was cool. It was clean though, she could see the bottom almost perfectly.

Gloin and Bombur appeared from the bushes. “I’ll be perfectly fine by myself,” She slipped the pack off. “Go and join the others.” She removed her coat, avoiding looking back to make sure that they listened to her. The bushes rustled and then she looked back and heaved a sigh of relief when the dwarves were gone. She laid the coat on a rock. Bilbo rummaged through her pack for the bar of soap she managed to grab before running out of Bag End; upon finding it she stripped to her shift.

Eyeing the bushes around her, Bilbo stepped into the chilly water, slipping the shift off and set it on a rock. She waded further in than was probably safe, until the water was past her breasts; no dwarf needed to see her nude. She ducked her head under, drenching her hair. She scrubbed the soap into her hair and set the soap back under a nearby rock and ducked her head under again, rinsing the soap out. Already she felt cleaner, the water washing the journey off of her. She rested her arms on a rock and closed her eyes, floating in the water. She basked in the warm sun and cool water. Contented, Bilbo sighed, dragging her eyes open and looked towards the shore. Thorin sat with his back to her, smoking on his pipe, his sword at his side.

Bilbo gasped, dropping off the rock and into the rushing water. She kicked about, sputtering as she resurfaced, standing up and covering her chest with her hands. “What do you not understand about ‘I can bathe alone’?” Bilbo shrieked.

Thorin moved his head to the side to speak to her, not turning around completely- thank goodness- so he didn’t gaze upon her. “I told you that you would be accompanied. If you wouldn’t accept Gloin and Bombur- both bonded dwarves- then I will keep watch.” He gruffly said, drawing out his pipe.

Bilbo glowered. Of all the things for the dwarves to insist on accompanying her to bathe was not one she had expected. If she were home she would have a bath to herself. She wouldn’t have to worry about their bloody paranoia.

“No…no- no.” Bilbo snapped, lifting one arm to shake her finger at him.

Thorin waved her indignation off. “Continue your bath; I will not look until you have said you are done.”

“You promise?” Bilbo dropped her arms slightly.

“Yes.” Thorin said, turning back to the face the front. She lowered herself into the water, eyes on him.

Bilbo finished her bath, lingering until she was pruny to leave the water. She dug a clean blouse from her pack and slipped into it then set to washing her clothes with the same soap. Not once did Thorin move from his position. Bilbo dressed in her spare clothes, cinching her bodice and tucking the blouse into the waistband of the only trousers she had managed to find at Bag End. She gathered her wet clothes and laid them over the sun warmed rocks.

Turning to Thorin she announced, “I’m finished.”

He slowly turned around, as if he thought she would have lied about being ready. His eyes widened as he took in the trousers. Bilbo clenched her hands behind her back, a flush creeping up her cheeks. Had she unintentionally offended him by wearing them?

Thorin shook his head, the braids he normally wore were undone, and hefted up his pack which until then Bilbo had not known was between his feet. “I will escort you back to camp when I am done.”

“It’s not that far.” Bilbo said, dropping her hands and watching him walk passed her.

He shook his head again and Bilbo dropped the argument. She took a seat on the same rock he had and stared out at the trees ahead of her.

She heard a series of several soft thunks. The first one most likely his pack, and then the next ones had her blushing as the image of Thorin bared came to mind. She carded her fingers through her hair, running into tangles and knots and wishing she had the mind to grab her brush before she had said she was finished. It would be impossible to brush it if it dried like this. Bilbo sighed and set to trying to work her fingers through the mess. A brush dropped into her lap. Bilbo jumped, almost looking back but she stopped in time.

She blushed, picking it up and started running it through her hair. She heard a splash and a groan- Thorin entering the water- and she blushed, dropping her head into hands as her mind assaulted her with the image of him naked and wet. Of all the times for her libido to make itself known, now was not appropriate, Bilbo chided herself, crossing her legs. She worked through the tangles in her hair, tuning the sound of water out. Her eyes locked onto the bushes in front of her.

The sound of laughter came as the wind shifted. The boisterous sounds of the other dwarves drowned out the image of Thorin in the water from her mind. She crooked her head to the side, listening intently, as she tried to see if she could distinguish anyone in the cacophony of sounds.

“Why aren’t you with the others?” Bilbo set the brush to the side. She didn’t hear anything for several seconds and considered that maybe Thorin hadn’t heard her but as her question wasn’t pertinent then she could drop it and never mention it.

“I do not care for handling my nephews right now, if I were to join them I would spend more time avoiding their games than actually bathing.” Thorin said. Bilbo didn’t listen for any splashing or other tell-tale signs of what he might be doing, no she didn’t- she wasn’t lying.

“Oh, okay,” She played with the strands of hair in front of her face, separating them into three pieces and absentmindedly twisting them together.

 “Though I am sure they would have been happy to have you join them if you had wished,” Thorin said.

“What?” Bilbo twisted around, stopping short. Thorin wasn’t in the water anymore, he wasn’t more than five feet from her and the only things he wore were a vexing smirk and trousers. Bilbo's mouth slackened. She's seen pictures of barely clothed me before: in magazines, at the beach, in the movies. She wasn't a prude. But this in front of her- this was borderline obscene. It didn't help the blush that stained her cheeks when Thorin arched a brow, calling her out on looking. His hands were in his hair, wringing the dark locks. Water dripped down his body, gathering on the hair covering his chest and traversing down the little trail of dark hair that disappeared under his trousers. Bilbo flushed, her ears turning scarlet, she looked back to the bushes. “Not funny.”

“Well be glad I told them no then; they were going to ask you to join them.”

Bilbo rolled her eyes, setting her hands behind her as she leaned back, basking in the dying sun. “Thank you then.” She whispered.

This was the longest conversation she had had with Thorin since starting on this mad journey and it occurred while he was bare chested behind her, Bilbo chuckled. She untwisted the hair she had plaited. She wasn’t going to look back again, not that she needed to since her imagination was going in overdrive at all the possibilities. A small part of her was vexed that he had already been dressed in his trousers, though that part was quickly reprimanded and silenced.

An awkward pause settled between them until Thorin spoke again. “Gandalf did say hobbits are inordinately modest.” There was some rustling behind her but Bilbo didn’t look back this time, no matter how tempting the sight might be. “Now I see he did not lie.”

From his careless exposure earlier Bilbo doubted that he had the same concepts of decency and propriety. She sighed in exasperation. “I am a lady, Thorin, whether you believe it or not.”

“That you are. But you are also in this company and should not wander off on your own, even if only to bathe.” Thorin took the brush from where she had sat it and joined her on the rock.

“So one of you will join me then?”

“Either Gloin, Balin, Bombur, or I will.” Not the most pleasant of options. Gloin was likely to blather on about his son and Bombur would sit quietly and not say a word. Balin, he might be a possibility. What of Bofur or Nori, even Dori seemed to value decency.

“And what about the others?” Bilbo asked. She was sure she could ask Dori and that he would be proper about it.

“Only if you allow them.” Thorin, satisfied with the state of his hair, started braiding it, slipping a clip on when each one was finished. He strapped his sword around his waist and hefted their packs onto his shoulder, directing her to take up the clothing that had been laid out on the rocks. “We should return to camp.”

“One second.” Bilbo picked up the skirt, it was mostly dry now; Thorin arched a brow at her. “Look ahead.” She pointed. Thorin did as he was told, shuffling the packs on his shoulder.

Bilbo slipped the skirt and petticoats on, tugging the trousers off underneath them. She didn’t want the dwarves staring at her because she was wearing trousers and not a skirt. She folded the trousers up and carried them under the crook of her arm, picking up the rest of the clothes, including Thorin’s.

At the campsite Bilbo shielded her eyes. The dwarves were walking around in various states of undress. She just saw more of Oin and Dori than she had ever cared to. She looked at the ground, keeping a hand up shielding her from anymore possible exposure.

Gandalf returned precisely at that moment and Bilbo deposited her pack near the fire and wandered off with him.

The next morning dark clouds dotted the distant horizon. An uneasy disquiet permeated the camp as they readied the ponies for the day’s journey. A few hours into the day it started. First it was a slow sprinkle and then it quickened into fat drops.

The constant drizzle and downpour soaked everything. Not an inch of her was dry. She was wet, cold, and miserable. She groaned, pulling the sodden coat tighter. If she were on a plane, or any modern transportation, she wouldn’t have to deal with the weather. She could be sitting cosy on a train and enjoy a cup of tea and be blessedly dry. She could be on a plane and fly around a rain storm and marvel at the dark clouds.

Better yet, Bilbo considered, she could be at home. She could be sitting inside her study drinking fine tea and either reading a book or writing one. There was a near endless list of possible indoor activities for a rainy day such as this but here she was, out in the rain, weathering through it.

Thorin was unrelenting, pushing everyone through the muck, not allowing for a single break from their sodden misery. The company’s attitude matched the weather, bleak and dismal. All the dwarves were wearing thick cloaks that covered them from head to toe.

Dori cried from under his cloak, “Here, Mr. Gandalf, can’t you do something about this deluge?”

“It is raining, Master Dwarf, and it will continue to rain until the rain is done. If you wish to change the weather of the world, you should find yourself another wizard.”

Bilbo rolled her eyes, if batty old Gandalf was a wizard than she was actually a hobbit who lived in the Shire. Besides, Dori had a cloak. He had no right to complain.

She nudged Myrtle forward, Bofur and Nori were just ahead and they would be welcome distractions from the rain, particularly Bofur’s penchant for optimism.

Bilbo shivered, eyeing the long cloaks enviously.

Something heavy crashed onto her back. Bilbo jumped, flailing as she whipped around to see what it was that was now draped over her. The heavy cloth slipped. She startled and grabbed at it before it could fall to the mud. Bilbo opened the cloth up. It was a cloak: green, well-worn, and quite large. Bilbo jerked up, searching for the owner. Dwalin passed by, watching her. He nodded when their eyes caught, tugging on his hood. She tentatively smiled at him. He went to the front of the company where Thorin was. He turned forward once Dwalin had joined him.

Bilbo, decided not to question the sudden generosity. She threw it over her head and clasped it in the front. She greedily pulled the cloak tight, quite comfortable inside the warm cloak. It wasn’t the driest thing nor was it the cleanest. It smelled musty, like old earth. But it held the heat in and kept her toasty warm. Bilbo snuggled inside it, drawing the weathered old cloak tight. Maybe she could endure the simplistic life of Middle Earth for a while. Modern conveniences would be there when she returned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] “Heave ho, Hammersmiths below” is the dwarvish version of Merry and Pippin’s drinking song from Lord of the Rings: Fellowship of the Ring.
> 
> [2] Don’t know if anyone caught what the Men were saying and the dwarves were implying. If you didn’t …The Men were implying that Bilbo was a woman of the night and were asking about the price of her services (she is the only woman travelling with thirteen male dwarves and a wizard) and the compensation Nori spoke of was about them impugning her honour and the dwarves defending it. (Something a woman might have to go through if she was journeying with 14 males, the assumption that she is there for pleasure purposes and not for the journey)
> 
> Chapter 3 is almost ready.
> 
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	3. Rabbits, Trolls, and Wargs... And She Smelled Worse than Each

Bilbo had to adapt to the fact that she wore the same clothes day after day. The few opportunities she had to wash and change were when she bathed.

They managed to stop and bathe only three times so far. Thorin wouldn’t allow her to bathe alone; he insisted someone must accompany her whenever she bathed. This, she had a feeling, was a mixture of gallantry, propriety and her ardent refusal to bathe in the presence of fourteen men. The first time Thorin accompanied her. The second chance they had to bathe Bilbo put up a half-hearted protest, exhausted from the day’s ride but she still tried. Thorin shook his head; his arms crossed over his chest. He allowed her to request someone to accompany her and she choose Balin. Balin, she learned was prone to chatter and every so often Bilbo had to reply because if she didn’t he would ask after her repeatedly, all to ensure nothing had happened to her while his back was turned. The next chance, she tried to escape Thorin’s notice and go bathing alone. She made it to the water, undressed, waded in, and had just dipped her head under, rinsing the soap out, when she turned around and found- not one but two dwarves, Dwalin and Thorin sitting with their backs to her. Bilbo had sighed and ducked under the water once more before she had trudged out of the water and dressed.

They were going on a week without a bath.

Sporadic rain had left an odd mildew and musk smell and the dwarves were particularly potent. Bilbo frequently resisted the urge to pinch her nose whenever she was in close proximity to the dwarves who were exceptionally foul.

Bilbo never had a moment alone. There were times when she could wander off and gaze at the world around her and wonder if this was a product of her imagination or if it was a separate world. The dwarves kept her on a short leash. Any time she moved farther than they liked a companion would join her. It made conducting her business awkward. Some things would have been easier if she were male.

The reason she was never alone was because she lacked a weapon, which she found out one day while gathering firewood with Nori and Ori. They explained that she couldn’t fend for herself should she be set upon and they were looking out for her.

Having a weapon seemed superfluous. It wasn’t as if danger loomed around every tree, rock, or hill. She was surrounded by a company of dwarves, all of whom were armed in some fashion and some of the dwarves were veritable walking armouries- knives hidden inside boots or tucked up a sleeve. So who in their right mind would be stupid enough to take on thirteen dwarves?

Not that the dwarves were her only companions. Gandalf was around but he seemed next to useless, always smoking his pipe.

“Gandalf,” Bilbo looked up to him.

“Hmm?” He heeled his horse next to her, peering quizzically at her from under his thick bushy brows.

Bilbo rubbed a hand through her hair, grimacing when it tangled. “Are there any others like you?"

He tilted his head, gazing queerly at her, “in what way do you mean?”

“Well, batty, old …” She said. That didn’t sound right though. “People who can send someone to another…” Bilbo peered at the dwarves around her, “send someone somewhere else? Like an adventure?”

“Hmm?”

“Oh, I need google.” She said, dropping her head to her chest. Where was the master search engine when she needed it? It could tell her if she was the only one something like this had happened to.

Gandalf chuckled and looked to the front of the company. His face fell and his mouth pursed together. “We should be heading to Rivendell.” He stated, urging his horse forward.

“Excuse me, Miss Bilbo,” Ori politely said.

“Yes, Ori?” Bilbo smiled.

He looked perplexed, “What’s a google?”

“A what?” She blinked, she didn’t think she heard him right. He couldn’t have heard her whisper, could he?

“A GooooGle.” He said, drawing out each syllable as if sounding the word out would provide him with a flash of insight.

“It’s a book,” She blurted, “a special hobbit book.”

Ori perked up upon hearing those words. “What’s it about?”

Bilbo near cursed, she shouldn’t have said that. “Everything.”

“I’d like to read it someday, where could I find it?”

“It’s hard to get to.” She said and looked to the front of the line, Kili and Fili had been gone for quite some time now.

“Why is that, where is it?”

“It’s in-” Well she could lie, but she knew very little about the Shire and there wasn’t any place which would discourage young Ori from wanting to travel there, at least no place that hobbits inhabited would scare him off, “it’s in Devon.”

“Where’s that?”

Bilbo blanched. “It’s a special place in the Shire.” She said dismissively.

Ori looked wistfully off into the distance, probably imagining a book about everything.

She turned to Bofur, anything to get her out the conversation with Ori. She was likely to spill the truth at this rate if she kept at it. “Are Kili and Fili back from scouting yet?” She asked the hatted dwarf.

“Getting’ hungry already?”

“Yes.”

“Mmm. We’re likely to find some rabbits in this area. It’ll make for a good supper tonight.” Bofur commented from her side. “Not as good as the food you had at home.”

Bilbo frowned. They were going to eat rabbits. She would just have to block that out like she did for all the other questionable food they ate.

Bofur looked hopefully over to her, “Bombur has a secret recipe for rabbits, can make ‘em taste better than mutton. They’re always dirty so first he skins them and then he’ll boil them.”

Bilbo’s brows pinched for a second. She threw a curious glance to the large dwarf. “Is cooking his-” Bilbo hesitated over the word; she wanted to say craft but did the dwarves consider it a craft, she didn’t know, “…specialty?”

None of the dwarves questioned Bombur’s place at the pot. He always had command when it came to their meals, though his helpers changed. Occasionally Oin would assist Bombur in cooking. Oin would pull various herbs from his well-stocked bag, digging through his supplies for something Bombur requested. Bombur’s cousin, Bifur, and his brother, Bofur, were never far from the pot either, sometimes smacking Bombur upside the head. Bilbo had noticed this oddity through the days. The Ur family fed her tales while they cooked supper. Bombur delighted in having someone else with a knack for cooking. Bombur and she discussed spices, herbs, and rubs worked best on which meats. The dwarves were largely carnivorous, except for a few exceptions like Bifur who enjoyed eating his greens. Ori, she had found did not relish eating the green stuff.

“Oh aye, that’s his Craft.” Bofur chirped. “Thought you knew that. He’s one of the few dwarves called to the kitchen and the pot. Can make a feast out of almost anything. Only he’ll eat most of the feast before it makes it to the table and some of it is gone before it makes it to the pot.” Bofur chuckled. “S'why Bifur and I watch him while he’s cooking.” He tapped on his nose.

“Don’t want the supplies to run out?” Bilbo tentatively asked.

“Exactly,” Bofur said, “he was one of the best cooks in Moria. Made the meals for the lords, and they would squabble over who could have him cook. They tried to pay him with gold and jewels, but Bombur here,” Bofur thumbed back to his brother, “only wanted food, so they gave him coin which he used to buy food.”

“What about you?” Bilbo asked. Bofur looked at her, inquiring, his elaborate moustache drooping. “Your Craft? You told me about mining, but you never said that it was your craft.” Bilbo said curiously. It wasn’t like mining was a craft or a specialty. It sounded more like a job.

“Oh. Toy making.” Bofur said matter-of-factly. “Bifur and I whittle out little toys for all the young ones. Made a new-”

“We’ll rest here for the night.” Fili rode up and told them. He headed further down the line informing each of the dwarves.

The front of the company had already dismounted. They were herding the ponies together under Kili’s guidance. Gandalf huffed after Thorin. He shouted something at the dwarf king, irate and upset, a common enough occurrence. Bofur helped her off her pony.

They stopped next to a burned building. The wood splintered and cracking, a ramshackle roof tilted and nearly falling off the shack. Something tugged at the back of her mind. One of the dangers of Middle Earth, one of the things she hadn’t thought about in a while, one of the things the dwarves faced in her book. They encountered trolls before they reached Rivendell. In the book they made camp near a burned out farmhouse, one conceivably exactly like this one. Bilbo laid a hand on the burned wood, ignoring the squabbling behind her. A chill crept up her spine. She scanned the surrounding forest, suddenly wishing she had written a timetable to their journey. There was no way to tell whether or not this was the abandoned burned down farmhouse from the book with trolls nearby or simply a random burned down farmhouse that happened to be on the road to Rivendell.

Bilbo exhaled, looking back to the company; Gandalf was storming off. Bilbo gasped, this wouldn’t do. She didn’t know if this was where the trolls were. She dropped Myrtle’s reins and ran after Gandalf.

She caught up to him, ignoring the burrs sticking to her feet. She would pick them off later. “Everything alright?” Bilbo asked. He shook his head and looked away from her, continuing his march away from the company. “Gandalf, where are you going?” She asked anxiously.

Gandalf stopped and turned around. He leaned on his staff. He closed his eyes and sighed. He said “To seek the company of the only one around here who’s got any sense.”

Bilbo looked from the dwarves and back to him, “Who’s that?” She asked.

Gandalf huffed, stomping away again. “Myself, Miss Baggins!” He declared, “I’ve had enough of dwarves for one day.”

“But…trolls.” Bilbo stammered. Gandalf was too far to hear her though.

The forest looked relatively harmless, almost safe. Bilbo stared at the trees warily. It wouldn’t do to say anything. Her opinion wasn’t valued in the camp and she was just a burglar, hardly of any importance. She glanced to Thorin, considering her options, she could inform him of her suspicions but what could she base them on, she couldn’t tell him she was writing a book and she wasn’t from the Shire but she was from Devon and none of this was real, he was more likely to laugh her off and leave her behind for being so daft. She ran an idle hand through her hair, the knots and tangles made it nigh unmanageable.

Despairing at the thought of trolls, she glanced back to the campsite. She sighed and held her chin high, she would simply have to stay alert, keep her eyes and ears peeled for trolls, wouldn’t want them walking onto the dwarves, that was for certain. Gandalf wouldn’t be gone for too long. When he returned she could try and talk to him about the trolls that were quite possibly nearby, even if it was only a hunch, it was part of the book. Since the characters were the same, then perhaps some of the events were.

Alert and ready, Bilbo returned to campsite.

“Come along, Bilbo.” Nori said and pulled her to the forest to gather firewood.

Ori joined them. He clasped Bilbo’s hand. To keep their burglar close, Bilbo reminded herself. Not that she had any intentions towards Ori. He was the sweetest in the company and currently, if Bilbo was correct though she had never predicted this, under the watchful eyes of Dwalin. The three headed out into the forest surrounding the campsite, gathering firewood. Bilbo stuck to the edge, always keeping the other dwarves within her line of sight.

Ori’s presence soothed her. His Craft, she had learned one day, was scribing, which was apparently a Craft to dwarves. They turned writing into an art form. A scribe could learn many things, from how to make the paper to how to tan leather and then press various shapes into it. They would mix their own inks and learn the combinations to make certain colours, and how to obtain various pigments. Bringing a scribe, while it wasn’t necessary and vital, brought good fortune to the quest because it allowed the dwarves to chronicle their adventure.

Asking Ori about his experiences as a scribe all but guaranteed that the bashful and reserved young dwarf would open up and start chattering away with the biggest grin on his face; although asking about his needlework was the second best. While not his Craft, Ori took great pride in his knitting and crochet. She found this out one night after inquiring about the remarkable amount of knitwear he wore.

“I could teach you.” Ori offered gingerly. His older brother Dori had sat behind him and he locked eyes with Bilbo kindly smiling at her.

“How to knit?” Bilbo asked, clarifying.

Ori’s head bobbed rapidly. He mumbled a timid “yes”.

“That would be wonderful.” Bilbo clapped her hands together. She sat in front of him and spread her skirt out around her.

“Offering lessons in knittin’ now, lad?” Dwalin asked gruffly. He stood impassively above them, arms crossed over his vast chest, staring down at the needles in Ori’s hands.

Ori’s face reddened into a startling shade of crimson. “Mister Dwalin, sir.” He squeaked, hastily covering his mouth. “I…Bilbo asked…” Ori stammered and glanced nervously about the camp, looking everywhere but at the tall dwarf.

Bilbo couldn’t look away, her attention caught on the swiftly changing expressions on Dwalin’s face. The hopeful gleam in his eyes quickly hidden, a slight incline of his head, the corners of his mouth falling minutely, lips pressed into a stern line, his eyes hardening as he stared down; all of this happening in a span of less than five seconds.

A slightly sadistic part of her enjoyed the flustered actions of the two dwarves while another part cheered them on, encouraging them to talk. She couldn’t tell if Dwalin was trying to be friendly, though he had never approached her in that manner, or if he was actively interested in the scribe. Whatever it was, the stilted interactions between the two were probably the most humorous thing to watch. She frequently observed this -adorable- phenomenon during their travels. Dwalin would approach Ori and inquire about something, an awkward attempt to start a conversation, and the young dwarf would clam up and meekly preface every response with ‘Mister Dwalin’ and blush. It was like watching two friends who were attracted to each other but were utterly oblivious to the other’s affections. She found herself trying to find way to seek Ori out, all in an attempt to encourage the budding…romance.

The distraction of picking up firewood was temporary. Once they were back at the campsite, Bilbo kept to the centre, her eyes constantly scanning the forest, always watching. Mind working over whether or not the trolls were out there.

The sun had dropped low by the time dinner was served and she still hadn’t decided if the trolls were out there. Sleeping was unlikely because trolls were more likely to be out at night, since the sun was their enemy and could turn them to stone.

Looking to the east where Gandalf had stormed off, Bilbo stated to Bofur, “He’s been a long time.”

Even if there were trolls, it wasn’t as if he could do anything about it. Sometimes she wondered what Gandalf’s purpose on the quest was since he seemed to constantly argue with Thorin about where they were going and who they should talk to. It wasn’t that she missed him but Gandalf was the only one who knew she wasn’t from the Shire.

“Who?” Bofur asked, stirring the soup.

“Gandalf.” Bilbo stated. An owl hooted in the distance and Bilbo jumped.

The sooner they left the burned down shack the better. If they made it through the night without any troll sightings than Bilbo would be glad, except for the small fact that the trolls were somewhere around here, so if it wasn’t tonight then it would be the next. She couldn’t have changed events that much by coming to Middle Earth.

Bofur shook his head, dismissing her concern. “He’s a wizard! He does as he chooses. Here, do us a favour: take this to the lads.” He handed her two bowls of soup.

There they go mentioning Gandalf being a wizard, Bilbo scoffed. If he was a wizard it would at least explain why she was here but it wouldn’t explain why he didn’t send her home, she didn’t belong in this world. She wasn’t a burglar and she wasn’t a hobbit. She belonged in Devon.

“Where…” Bilbo started but Bofur pointed her to the forest.

Bilbo gulped, straightening her shoulders. The trolls hadn’t shown yet. Maybe they weren’t there, the forest could be safe. Bofur smiled congenially at her.

A twig tugged at her skirt and her feet stepped in mud, she willed herself oblivious to the dirt. There were more important things to focus on at the moment, like the possibility of trolls, even if it was something she no desire to consider. She huffed, disregarding the stick clinging to her skirt. She would simply have to pick out the leaves and sticks when she returned to camp. The brothers were around here somewhere and then she could return to the relative safety of the campfire and the walking armouries.

She found the brothers alright, and they had managed to lose two ponies and insisted they not bother Thorin with the problem. The brothers figured the three of them could figure out what happened to the two ponies. Bilbo wavered for a moment. She looked back the way she came and couldn’t see the campfire anymore. That shut down the idea of going back, she squared her shoulders and set off after the two knuckleheads, forcing the thoughts of trolls out of her mind, it wouldn’t help in finding the ponies if she was worried about the stumbling onto a-

Startled and faced with sudden fact that yes there were trolls and she had managed to stumble on them, her mind stuttered to a halt. “Troll.” She finally managed to say something, after her mind rebooted itself. It was still working around the troll.

The two princes nodded at her, looking to the troll carrying two ponies under its massive arms.

She managed to not only stumble onto a troll. The boys, the mischievous princes, pushed her forward, arguing she was a burglar and could steal the ponies back from the troll.

Gaping and stammering, Bilbo protested the very idea of going after the ponies alone. This wasn’t a good idea. She had never burglared anything before in her life and they wanted her to start by stealing from a monstrous troll. She wagged her finger at them, muttering “No. No- no.” They wouldn’t hear it. Fili told her to hoot like a – she didn’t understand, something about an owl before she was unceremoniously forced onto the campsite.

There wasn’t one troll. There were three. Bilbo swallowed the bile that had suddenly risen up, forcing down her anxious nausea. She hid behind the trolls as she scurried to the ponies.

Considering her options Bilbo glanced to the forest’s edge where the princes had pushed her, they weren’t there anymore. She smacked her hand on her head. There went the possibility of running to the dwarves. No matter how stupid the trolls, they were likely to notice her running away and would follow after her. She couldn’t lead them to the dwarves.

Bilbo breathed in deeply and exhaled. There was only one option: rescue the ponies. And when she made it back to camp Bilbo was going to smack the two princes upside the head for leaving her. Bilbo squared her shoulders and assessed the situation just like she thought a good burglar would do. That’s all she had to do, Bilbo grinned, be the burglar Gandalf claimed she was, even if she didn’t have the experience.

Each troll towered over her. They were as tall as young tree and their legs just as wide as a tree stump. Bilbo couldn’t wrap her arms around them if she wanted to. They were large enough that she could stand behind one and remain unseen. The trolls spoke in a rough cockney accent, complaining about mutton and the farmer. Bilbo gagged on the vile odour pervading the campsite. It wasn’t helping the queasiness in her stomach as they discussed eating a farmer, which was another thing she did not want to consider or she might lose her dinner. One of the trolls sneezed in the boiling pot and Bilbo nearly keeled over at that, never mind the sickening argument the troll made that it enhanced the flavour of the soup.

She pulled at the ropes securing the fence. They were thick and wouldn’t budge. She crouched low and searched the camp. There. On one of the trolls was a knife within easy reach. Time to practice her burglary. Bilbo summoned all of her courage and made for it.

There were some things in life she had never expected or anticipated, and some things Bilbo simply wasn’t prepared to handle, she needed a moment to absorb it. Being thrown into Middle Earth would fall into the unexpected category. Snatched up by a troll and sneezed on was firmly in the not prepared to handle, needed a moment to absorb category.

It took her mind a moment to reboot. In fact she had to reason out what happened. Where was she? She blinked, staring dazedly up, working it out in her head. Middle Earth, in a troll’s hand. Which would explain the question: who was looking down at her? The next question to pop into her head was significant and required an immediate answer, or at least she considered it important hygienically: what was that smell? Bilbo sniffed and cringed, that would be her.

Let it be said troll snot was not a pleasant, enjoyable experience and certainly not one she would like to relive. And if she had thought she was filthy earlier it couldn’t compare to now. She wanted a shower and a bath and a trip to the spa because she would never be clean again. Also it would be added to her expenses as burglar, Thorin would pay for his nephews pushing her into the devil’s den.

“Argh!!!” The troll holding her exclaimed. The trolls weren’t faring much better than her. The three of them stared at her quizzically, looking at each other, trying to reason where she had come from. “Blimey! Bert! Bert! Look what’s come out of me ‘ooter! It’s got arms and legs and everything.”

The other troll, Bert, peered curiously at her, “What is it?” he asked. His large finger loomed close and Bilbo wiggled away.

“I don’t know, but I don’t like the way it wriggles around!” The troll, who held her, shook her out of his hand.

She dropped gracelessly to the ground, ending up in a pile of skirt and petticoats before she stood up and righted herself. Bilbo swiped the troll snot off of her face with her hands, not effectively though because it was like trying to clean the ocean water off with more ocean water. She just ended up spreading the snot around.

Her head swam unpleasantly, just like it had at the hobbit hole when Bofur keenly explained the effects of dragon fire. At least if she fainted it would probably make them devouring her less painful. But would it keep the dwarves safe? She wasn’t about to endanger them if she could help it.

“What are you then? An oversized squirrel?” One of the trolls asked her, crouching.

“What?!” Bilbo squeaked. Of all the things they could compare her to. She flounced indignantly in her skirts, standing up straight, as tall as she could. “No I am not a squirrel. I’m a burgla-Hobbit!” Bilbo bit the inside of her cheek, slamming her mouth shut. And now she was as reckless as the boys, she almost told the dratted numbskull trolls she was a burglar.

“A Burgla-Hobbit?”

“Can we cook `er?” The three trolls appraised her.

Well, now she knew how it felt to be meat at the butcher’s. Bilbo frantically shook her head, praying the dwarves would stay where they were. She would wheedle her way out of the situation. She could. Except the trolls decided they were interested in trying to cook her.

She didn’t have much choice. Bilbo snatched up skirts and ran. She dodged the hands reaching for her. This was a dangerous game, running rampant around the campsite, dodging hands and an expertly wielded ladle. Bilbo giggled, one of the trolls had hit the other. She was becoming half mad herself in this dash as she whipped around the campsite. She was breathless, merrily chuckling as she managed to dance around the trolls and their grabs.

But she wasn’t keeping an eye on where was she going, she tripped over a log and fell. One of the trolls snatched her up by the legs, skirt in his grasp, and demanded to know if there were any more like her out there. Bilbo vehemently denied it. The trolls accused her of lying and Bilbo incensed, denied that one as well. A troll suggested they hold her toes over the fire and Bilbo fought the rising panic, she was doing this for the stubborn dwarves, if she could last through this than the dwarves would possibly do better on their quest, they wouldn’t be injured and rescued by elves.

Except she hadn’t counted on one thing: the dwarves. She had considered who would be stupid enough to attack thirteen armed dwarves. She shouldn’t have worried about that one as much. Their eagerness to fight a dragon should have been a clue as to what she should have been worried about: what were the dwarves stupid enough to attack?

Her rescue came in the form of Kili charging and attacking the dwarves, hitting the only thing he could, the legs. She slumped in the troll’s grasp and groaned. Stupid arse dwarf, she cursed him under her breath. Not that she had the situation under control, but Kili was a reckless dwarf and more apt to get himself killed and her as well.

“Drop her!” Kili boldly said, stalking forward. His eyes stared intently up at the three trolls holding her hostage.

“What?” The trolls stared dumbly down at Kili, not quite believing a single dwarf had the audacity to challenge them.

Kili swung his sword, stepping back into a fighting stance. Confound the stupid dwarf, Bilbo thought as Kili bravely held his ground before the three monstrous trolls. He smirked. “I said, drop her.”

The troll growled and hurled Bilbo at Kili.

Kili, quick as a whip, dropped his sword before he impaled her. They tumbled to the ground together, Kili’s arms tight around her. The rest of the company charged from the bushes, their weapons drawn. Kili rolled Bilbo off and took up arms, joining the melee.

The next several minutes were chaotic, and for Bilbo, panic guided brilliance. In the mad fray between the dwarves and the trolls, Bilbo managed to grab the knife off the troll and free the ponies. While she did a mental cheer for actually having burglared something, which in hindsight she should’ve been running away- a huge hand enveloped her and snatched her up, off the ground.

Two trolls held her up this time, a hand on each of her limbs. She jerked, tugging futilely. The trolls had her now and it was unlikely they would let her go this time.

The fighting stopped. All eyes were on her. Spread out, arms and legs stretched. Bilbo whimpered, not wanting to see the look on the dwarves faces.

“Bilbo!” Kili surged forward. She glanced up, her eyes rimmed red.

“No.” Thorin held his nephew back. He scowled up at her, his brows set and jaw clenched. Bilbo flinched, unable to look away.

“Lay down your arms,” A troll yelled, “or we’ll rip hers off.”

Thorin continued to stare at her. He thrust his sword into the ground, growling in frustration. The dwarves followed his example, throwing down their weapons.

Bilbo winced at Thorin’s hard accusing stare, declaring it was her fault. If she hadn’t come along on the quest they wouldn’t be in the situation. Bilbo didn’t say anything, how could she explain that no matter what, even if she hadn’t been with them, the dwarves would still manage upon the trolls. They were fated to meet to trolls.

Dismayed, Bilbo tried to apologize silently to Thorin. He shook his head, she knew the look he returned her. And it was not heartening. He was disappointed in her. And he had expected this.

She didn’t know what was worse, the disappointment or the fact that he had predicted she would wind up in trouble. Thorin had made no attempts to hide his frustration. She knew she wasn’t what he wanted in a burglar but it still hurt to see it declared so plainly on his face.

It’s not like she had planned for the dwarves to be stuffed into burlap sacks or trussed onto a spit. And she wasn’t about the blame the nephews, even if they did have a hand in this. She had tried to burglarize and look how well that went. But Thorin was right. It was her fault they were caught. Bilbo shifted in her sack and looked away from Thorin and his baleful glare. She would find a way out of this. Something would happen. They would survive. She couldn’t have screwed up that bad.

She listened to the trolls ramble on about eating the dwarves. They covered a wide range of possibilities, including squashing all of them into jelly, which sounded the most unpleasant option to her.

“Never mind the seasoning; we ain’t got all night! Dawn ain’t far away, so let’s get a move on. I don’t fancy being turned to stone.” A troll griped.

Dawn. Bilbo perked up. If dawn wasn’t far off than she could still do something. There was still a chance. She could save the dwarves. She could do it. Bilbo stood. “Wait!” She said frantically, her voice trembled but she stubbornly continued, “You are making a huge mistake.”

The dwarves cried out and Bilbo ignored them. She was going to save their moronic arses if they would only keep quiet.

The trolls stopped and they looked inquiringly down to her. She hopped up in the burlap sack. “With the seasoning.” She explained. Talking about cooking, she could handle this.

“What about the seasoning?”

“You can’t reason with them, they’re half-wits!” Dori shouted discouragingly.

“Half-wits?” Bofur questioned, “What does that make us?”

The two were roped onto a spit, perhaps the most dangerous position currently.

Drawing herself up to her full height, Bilbo took on an unintimidated affectation. Inside though, her stomach was in knots, she had no clue what she was doing. She was pulling this out of her arse and this was liable to get her in trouble, and worse the dwarves if she didn’t handle this properly. She squared her shoulders, she could do this. She would do this. She stared directly into the trolls’ eyes, unintimidated and steadfast. She was a Baggins of Bag End, the granddaughter of the Old Took, the daughter of the wild and adventurous Belladonna Took. This was in her blood.

Taking a second to breathe, Bilbo glanced nervously back to the pile of dwarves, reminding herself she could do this. “Have you smelled these dwarves?” Bilbo shuddered. “They’re certainly not sugar and daisies that’s for sure. No, no, no you’ll need something stronger than sage to cover up this lot’s dirt.” Bilbo leaned closer to the trolls conspiratorially. “And I don’t even know if it’s all dirt they’re covered with.” She shook her head. “I haven’t seen them bathe recently either.”

The dwarves started calling her a traitor now and the ones in the sacks nearby kick her. Bilbo didn’t do anything to try and stop them. It wouldn’t help them if the trolls thought she was on the dwarves’ side. This was to keep the dwarves alive, all she had to do was make it to dawn and then everything would be golden. If only the dwarves could figure that out too, her shins were taking a pounding.

“What do you know about cooking dwarf?”

“Shut up, and let the, uh, flurgaburburrahobbit talk.”

“Thank you.” Bilbo graciously said to the troll. She glanced back to the dwarves. She didn’t know about cooking dwarf and honestly the thought of it sickened her. But she had to muscle through this. She swallowed around a sudden thick lump in her throat.

“Tell us the secret.” The trolls demandingly said, expecting her to utter some epiphanous cooking secret.

Well she had a plan, it was more of an outline: step one stall for time, step 2 (she hadn’t quite figured out how but talking was working well enough for her so far), step 3 daylight and trolls turned to stone. It would go perfectly if she could actually figure out how she was supposed to tell the trolls to cook the dwarves without any of the dwarves getting cooked. It was much harder than it sounded.

“Well the secret to cooking dwarf is-” Bilbo paused, she would have scratched her head if she could. She looked at the dwarves, frantically searching her mind.

What could she possibly tell the trolls that didn’t end up with one of the dwarves eaten?

“Yes?” The trolls leaned closer.

“Well, it’s an old recipe I’m trying to remember.” Bilbo paused again. They were covered in dirt. The dwarves were covered in dirt; she was covered in dirt and snot. All of them sounded highly unappetizing. There had to be a way out of this.

She spoke slowly, drawing as much time to think as she could. “Well, because dwarves are never clean in the first place you have to-” She just had to focus, find something reasonable. How would she cook dwarf, Bilbo’s stomach rolled in response to that question. They were smelly, covered in dirt, and they were dwarves. She sighed. Well if she were going to cook something dirty and smelled terrible what would she do? Wash the thing in question or skin it, just like Bofur had said about Bombur’s recipe. Slight problem, neither of those sounded particularly good: how was she supposed to stall and yet encourage the trolls to either boil the dwarves or skin them. Although she might be able to get the dwarves bathed out of this, that is if they could last in boiling hot water for an indeterminate time. No. Bilbo flat out refused that idea, too risky.

Bofur had told her about Bombur’s recipe for cooking rabbits, he skinned them first. “You have to skin them first.” She exclaimed.

More threats from the dwarves now, Bilbo let them slide. She couldn’t afford to react to their hollering about her betrayal. She was saving their lives. The dwarves could deal with it.

Bert said, “Tom, get me the filleting knife.”

Gloin threatened her, “If I get you, you little--” and Dwalin swore, “I won’t forget that!”

Bilbo let the dwarves' words wash over her. She couldn’t react. She couldn’t give the game away. She had to stall, she was saving their lives. They would realize it, they had to.

The trolls protested, saying they’ve eaten dwarf before with their boots and all sundry still on. Bilbo noticed Gandalf stalking about in the bushes off to the side. The trolls were thankfully unaware. One of trolls picked Bombur up to demonstrate just how one could eat a dwarf whole.

“No!” She screamed, nearly tripping in the burlap sack as she lunged at the trolls. “You don’t want to eat that one!”

“Why no’?” Bert asked. Bombur, hanging upside down, was also keenly watching her. His fate rested in her hands, well mind.

“He’s um- he is” Bilbo couldn’t look away from the trolls, she had to do this, she could save Bombur she just had to think of a reason why they couldn’t eat him. She frantically tried to think of something, anything, anything but zombie infection because there were no zombies in Middle Earth- but they did have infections. “He’s infected!” She blurted.

Bert pulled the rotund dwarf away from his mouth. “With wha’?” He stared apprehensively at the dwarf dangling in his grip.

Bilbo said the first thing that came to mind. “Worms, he’s got worms in his tubes. Big ones,” She leaned forward conspiratorially, “This whole lot has worms in their tubes.” She nodded at the dwarves behind her. “I don’t think you want to be eatin’ them.”

The dwarves clamoured, shouting accusingly at Bilbo for her parasites comment. She winced, this could prove problematic if the dwarves continued fighting her attempts at stalling. She heard a loud thunk and then suddenly the dwarves were yelling about being riddled with parasites.

Kili insisted that he had the largest parasites. Bilbo chuckled quietly, shaking her head at the young dwarf.

The trolls eyed the dwarves warily. “See these dwarves are covered in dirt,” Bilbo began, “and the worms have sort of just- taken up residence- it’s a mutually beneficial relationship.” Bilbo haplessly grinned, nodding vigorously. She needed the trolls to believe her, if only for an hour more. Dawn’s first light was visible, peeking over the horizon.

“What would you have us do, then,” Tom asked, “let ‘em all go?”

“Oh, well, you could” The trolls shared a doubtful look among themselves; Bilbo backed up, she was so close to saving the dwarves, “… no?”

“Then wha’ you suggestin’?” Bert asked.

Well there was still plan B. “Boil them?” She meekly said. “I’ve heard that the best dwarf is a boiled dwarf.” She tried her best to sound confident. There was one upside to this, when the dawn arrived some of the dwarves would smell the better for it.

“You think I don’t know what you’re up to? This little ferret is taking us for fools!”

“Ferret?” Bilbo questioned indignantly. First they thought she was a squirrel and now she was a ferret, could they not decide on what animal she was. For that matter she wasn’t an animal she was a human stuck in a hobbit’s body.

Gandalf, batty old man that he was, choose that moment to step on top of a large rock. He raised his staff up, staring down at the trolls. “The dawn will take you all!” He yelled.

Bilbo groaned, grimacing and shaking her head. Was she going to have to save Gandalf too?

“Who’s that?”

“No idea.”

“Can we eat `im too?”

Gandalf, using his staff, struck hard on the rock. It cracked, perfectly down the middle, and split into two. The sunlight burst through and shone on the trolls. They howled in pain and –poof- they turned to stone.

A rousing chorus of cheers rose from the dwarves.

Bilbo blinked. She tilted her head sideways and hopped closer to the trolls. They were stone. The dawn had turned them into stone. But a rock had been in the way; a rock which was now in two. How was that possible, unless: Bofur had called Gandalf a wizard the night before and Dori had asked Gandalf to stop the rain from pouring and Gandalf had even told Dori that he would have to find another wizard. Bilbo’s eyed widened to impossible proportions. “Gandalf is actually a wizard…” She incredulously murmured. Bilbo glared at him, a fierce promise that there would be words later. Right then though, Bilbo shuddered, she desperately wanted to be out of the burlap sack and into the nearest body of water, no matter how dirty it was, as soon as possible. She was covered in troll snot and it was starting to harden.

The wizard, Bilbo bristled at that lack of foreknowledge, and dwarves made quick work in freeing everyone and soon they all could stand on their own two feet again. Gandalf and Thorin walked away to be alone, talking in hushed tones. When they finished Thorin demanded they fan out and search the area for caves. Bilbo bristled, of all the things to search for they wanted to find a cave. She wanted a bath. Grumbling about their asinine fascination with caves, Bilbo set out with the rest of the company in search of one.

“Ya know if we had bathed recently than you wouldn’t have been able to save us.” Bofur chuckled and slipped a hand behind her back, pushing her along.

Bilbo groaned and let Bofur lead. “You’re not covered in snot.”

“True, you are a tad ripe.” He smiled, waving his hand in front of his nose.

Bilbo rolled her eyes at the comment. She sniffed her arm just to confirm it. She wrinkled her nose. She smelled worse than the dwarves.

“Oi- You two, we found the cave.” Nori ran over to them.

Bofur and Nori took off to the cave and Bilbo hitched up her skirts and trailed after them.

They came to the mouth of the cave and Nori waved his hand in front of his nose, “Oh, what’s that stench?!”

“It’s a troll hoard. Be careful what you touch.” Gandalf said as if that explained everything. Which it didn’t but Bilbo wasn’t going to say anything.

She was going to have a talk with Gandalf as soon as she could. Wizard or not he shouldn’t throw people into other worlds and have them go on crazy half mad quests. It just wasn’t proper, especially taking a reputable Baggins.

As they entered the cave, many of the dwarves coughed and retched at the stench. But they endured it once they saw what was inside, piles of gold coins, swords, and other treasures. All gathering cobwebs as if they were trash.

Bofur tutted at the sight. “Seems a shame just to leave it lyin’ around. Anyone could take it.”

Gloin came up beside him, hand contemplatively stroking his beard. “Agreed. Nori, get a shovel.”

Bilbo shook her head exasperatedly, typical dwarves, always looking for gold and treasure. She walked out of the cave and found a mossy rock to sit on. She vainly wiped at the troll snot, it didn’t do her any good. Well at least she was stuck with the dwarves, not like she had to be somewhere special anytime soon, no special occasion she had to dress up for.

She huffed, wringing the skirt in her hands and wished she was wearing her trousers. If she were home she could walk around in her trousers all day and not worry about upsetting anyone’s sensibilities. Here in Middle Earth, a divide still existed between the sexes on clothing.

Of course if she were home she wouldn’t have to worry about troll snot, or trolls for that matter. She could take a shower whenever she wanted, twice daily if she so desired. Bilbo sniffled, stopping herself before she could use a snot encrusted hand to wipe her nose.

Gandalf came out of the cave and headed straight for her. “Bilbo” he said.

“Hmm?” She glanced up at him, momentarily forgetting her ire. He was the one who stuck her in Middle Earth. He was the reason she was here, covered in troll snot.

Gandalf handed her a small sword, “Here. This is about your size.”

“I can’t take this.” Bilbo eyed it.

“The blade is of Elvish make which means it will glow blue when orcs or goblins are nearby.” Gandalf said as if that made a difference, which it didn’t.

“I have never used a sword in my life.” Bilbo stated. She didn’t have a clue what to do with a sword, other than stuck them with the pointy end.

Gandalf hunched low, his brows drawn together pityingly. “And I hope you never have to. But if you do, remember this: true courage is about knowing not when to take a life, but when to spare one.” His remark was cryptic and Bilbo stared up at him, her brows furrowed together. Did he know something?

She didn’t have much time to contemplate it, the dwarves were slugging back to their campsite from the night before. After a restless night, falling to sleep, even in morning, sounded fantastic.

“Fili, Kili, round up the ponies.” Thorin said. The two nodded and they were off to wrangle the ponies. Thankfully most of them hadn’t wandered far.

“Take the day to rest Thorin,” Gandalf advised.

“And miss a day’s travel?”

Bilbo thought she heard Gandalf mutter about the stubbornness of dwarves.

“You won’t go very far when you’re tired,” Gandalf said, “and you are making good time. A day’s rest will do you well. I will keep watch.”

Looking at his company, all baggy eyes and sluggish movements, Thorin considered the proposition. After several moments he nodded in acquiescence. “We’ll round the ponies and move closer to the trees and rest a day.”

Gandalf sighed, clutching his staff. “Good.”

The dwarves moved the camp to the tree line, falling under the shade. Kili and Fili eventually rounded the ponies up and were instructed to watch them this time- and sternly warned not to lose them. Like usual for camp, Thorin laid out the map and Balin and Gandalf joined him. Thorin pointed to their current position on the map. Bilbo crept close and peered at where he was pointing and then to the lonely mountain, they still had a vast distance to cover, crossing mountains and a giant forest. The distance alone exhausted Bilbo by just looking at it.

One particular item on the map sparked her interest. Not far from where Thorin had pointed out their current location on the map was a solid but meandering line and above it written in the squiggly font that she had come to associate with Middle Earth was the word ‘Hoarwell’. There was a river nearby, and it didn’t seem too far. They had passed over one yesterday and Thorin had pressed them on. The water had looked delightful. It could be the same river. She could go for a quick dip, a chance to bathe and wash all the snot off of her. She’d be refreshed and raring to go.

“Gandalf?” Bilbo tried getting his attention.

“Hmm?” He looked down at her, noticing her next to the map for the first time.

“That’s a river there?” Bilbo pointed to the wavy lines on the map. She had no desire to run into random rocks or anything. She simply wanted to be confident that she was looking at a river.

“Ah yes. The River Mitheithel, it feeds into Gwathlo, not too far from here. Perhaps a two hour ride.” Gandalf said.

Well if the company rested then she was going to the river to bathe. She wouldn’t run around in her filthy clothes if she didn’t have to.

“I’m going.” She said. Before anyone could question her decision or object she went and picked up her pack. Heading for the ponies, Bilbo hadn’t really considered who would join her and Thorin was adamant in his rule that she wasn’t to go alone, well at that moment it didn’t matter to her; she was not missing the chance to go bathing in a river and wash off all the dirt and muck.

“Miss Boggins.” Kili said. Bilbo rolled eyes.

“Saddle her pony and mine,” Thorin said, sounding begrudging about the whole affair.

Bilbo blinked. Well that answered her question on who would join her.

The princes prepared the ponies in question. Myrtle snapped at Bilbo and she petted the pony’s nose. Bilbo bounced on the balls of her feet, waiting for Fili and Kili to finish adjusting the stirrups on their uncle’s saddle. She didn’t have long to wait before Fili lifted her onto Myrtle’s back. Then the two of them were off, heading west.

It had been several weeks since Bilbo had first ridden Myrtle and in that time she has learned how to lead the pony. Although Myrtle followed the other ponies when they were in a long line, she didn’t stray, and she had perhaps the most docile demeanour of all the ponies. This gave Bilbo plenty of time to practice riding. Her legs still bowed after dismounting but the lingering soreness wasn’t as bothersome as it had been the first few weeks.

On the ride to the river Bilbo kept a note of the passing landmarks, memorizing how to return to camp; in case Thorin’s infamous lack of direction reared its ugly head. The first dwarf to inform her of his majesty’s weakness was Balin. The advisor had taken a seat next to Bilbo one night and was asking questions about the Shire. During that time he revealed that the Dwarven king had become lost twice on the way to Bilbo’s home. She had a good chuckle at that. Bilbo answered Balin’s questions as best she could. Some of the responses were made up on the fly. Others were related to hobbit families and those answers came from her life back in Devon and she spoke up the Tooks.

The silence was awkward at first. Unlike most of the other dwarves, Thorin was a taciturn companion, quiet and broody. He didn’t tell stories or jokes or sing. Occasionally she would glance at Thorin and open her mouth only to shut it again. The events from last night, the trouble with the trolls, wouldn’t go away. She smoothed out the wrinkles in her skirt, gaze darting to Thorin. She didn’t know if he blamed her for the encounter and their subsequent capture. She had saved them though, that had to be worth something.

After a while Bilbo swore that she could hear something. She glanced to left at Thorin. The dwarf’s lips were moving with a rhythm. When she listened closely it sounded like the song that he had snag at her home. She stayed quiet as she listened to him sing. If she said anything then he was likely to stop.

They weren’t riding long when she heard the swiftly running water. They dismounted from their ponies. Bilbo jumped off before Thorin could help her down. She held the reins while Thorin plucked their packs off the ponies, setting them down before taking the reins from Bilbo.

Thorin sat on a rock and turned his back to her.

She stripped out of her clothes, grimacing at the sight of them. Of all the clothes she had brought, these were her favourite, nothing to do but wash them and hope they weren’t permanently discoloured.

Bilbo took the soap out her pack and waded into the chilly water, noting the swift current deeper in. She ducked under, soaking her hair.

“Why didn’t the company choose to go bathe?” Bilbo asked.

“Some are. They waited until we left and went further south than us and will find a spot within shouting distance. Some choose to rest.” He paused before adding, “Not all of us are covered in troll snot.”

She jerked, glaring at Thorin’s back. If it wasn’t for her those dwarves wouldn’t still be alive. “You know- the least you could do is thank me.”

“For being captured by trolls?” Thorin said scornfully.

“I could have left you to the trolls.” Bilbo snapped.

“Ah yes. The best dwarf is a boiled dwarf?” Thorin recalled.

She rolled her eyes at that. She ducked her head under the chilly water, rinsing her hair.

If Thorin couldn’t appreciate the joke perhaps he would rather be reminded about the other options available to him at the time. “It was that or you could have been squashed into jelly. Which would you prefer, your majesty?” Bilbo teased, coquettishly saccharine. The dwarves could have been squashed into jelly if that’s what Thorin preferred.

Thorin considered this for a moment. Bilbo finished washing up, ensuring she scrubbed every last inch of her body clean. She had no desire to reek of troll snot for the foreseeable future.“Mmm. Dwarf jelly, it doesn’t sound appetizing.” He said.

“I would imagine not.” Bilbo dressed into her comparatively clean clothes, changing from her wet shift into a dry one. “But with a hint of sage though, it might go great on toast.” Bilbo said with all seriousness.

There was a pause, a brief moment of quiet- then Thorin chuckled and Bilbo laughed loudly. She wiped the tears gathering at the corner of her eyes and stared at Thorin, for all his moodiness he wasn’t terrible. Certainly taciturn and broody and prone to snapping at his nephews, but he genuinely cared for each member of the company, even her. He had thrown down his weapon, when the trolls held her limbs and threatened to tear them off, all to save her.

“Thank you,” she hesitantly said, laundering the snot ridden clothing, “for saving me from the trolls.”

“You’re quite welcome,” Thorin said, Bilbo smiled softly, pleased that they weren’t yelling or bickering and he wasn’t mad with her and he might for once approve of her, “burglar.” Her face fell. Or not. Bilbo sighed and set the cleaned clothing out to dry.

“I’m done.” She tapped him on the shoulder. Thorin turned around, blue eyes gazing up at her. Wistfully a part of her thought she saw something briefly flicker, but she quickly dismissed the notion.

Switching spots, Bilbo sat with her back to the river and Thorin went to bathe. She ran her fingers through her hair, catching the tangles and trying to work them out manually. A brush dropped next to her and Bilbo almost looked back to thank him but stopped herself. Not that she didn't enjoy the view but Thorin didn't accompany her so he could be gazed upon.

She mumbled a quiet "thank you" and brushed her hair, taming the knots and tangles as much as possible.

They returned to the campsite early afternoon. Gandalf, smoking his pipe, watched the dwarves. Some of the dwarves were curled up in their bedrolls. Bombur and Oin bickered and tended the pot. The ‘Ri family was absent, as well as Dwalin and Balin, presumably they went to bathe.

By mid-afternoon the whole company was present. Those who wanted bathe had returned and were able to rest. Kili went hunting and came back with a small catch of rabbits. Bofur chuckled and Bombur cooked them using his secret recipe, she didn’t tell him it was her inspiration on how to cook dwarf. Bilbo tore into dinner, ravenous. They hadn’t eaten breakfast and lunch was a light affair.

The next morning, after a solid night’s rest, Thorin roused Bilbo, bellowing, “Something’s coming!” Everyone was immediately upright.

“Gandalf-” Bilbo startled, rubbing her eyes.

Gandalf pushed her to the dwarves. “Stay together! Hurry now. Arm yourselves.”

Arm yourselves, he said, Bilbo looked askance at the sword at her waist, it wasn’t big but it seemed a good sized sword for her. She pulled it out and held it up, trying not to tremble with the unfamiliar weight in hand.

A crazed looking man garbed in brown, riding a sled pulled by a team rabbits, barrelled through the forest. He stopped in front of the company, howling and calling them thieves and murderers. Bilbo sighed. As mad as he looked he was probably another wizard like Gandalf. What was it about Middle Eart? Why did it lack proper wizards like ones who lived in tall towers and studied spells and practiced incantations.

Gandalf called him Radagast and the mad man in brown calmed down somewhat. Then Bilbo was able to get a good look at him. He was covered in bird shit. Where were the serious wizards in Middle Earth? When she got back to Devon she was going to add in a wizard in a tower and he will be a wizard, he’ll lead the order of wizards too.

The two batty wizards walked off, talking privately. Bilbo sheathed her sword and ran a finger down the sheath. Well here was another unexpected thing; she was wearing a sword now. She had never worn a sword before. A smile crept upon on, imagining herself again as the woman who slayed a powerful witch-king.

Without warning a wolf howled in the distance. Bilbo scrambled back, knocking into Bofur. She looked anxiously at him. “Was that a wolf? Are there--are there wolves out there?”

“Wolves?” Bofur shook his head, not smiling. That was not a good sign. Bofur not smiling was never a good sign. He was supposed to smile. Bilbo trembled, dreading his response. “No, that is not a wolf.”

From behind them, on a nearby crag, a large wolf like creature appeared. It jumped, leaping into the midst of the Company and knocking down Oin and nearly Nori too but he moved away just in time. Quick as a flash, Thorin was there and brought his sword down and killed the giant beast. Drawing her small sword, Bilbo shuffled back, colliding with Bofur. He wrapped a hand around her waist and dragged her behind him, standing in front of her. She held it up, trying not to waver and not stab someone accidentally in the back. Another wolf like creature jumped from the other side but before it could do anything Kili shot it; he had drawn his bow faster than Bilbo could see and brought it down with an arrow. He didn’t kill it though. The thing struggled up. Dwalin sprang forward and killed the thing with one blow.

Thorin yelled, looking at his company. “Warg-Scouts! Which means an Orc pack is not far behind.”

“Wargs?!” Bilbo squeaked. “Orc pack?” That sounded terribly frightening and downright dangerous.

Gandalf pulled Thorin aside and the other dwarves backed away. They made for the camp, grabbing everything they could. Bilbo stayed near Bofur, not that the dwarf seemed inclined for her leave his side. He stuck to her, grabbing his bag while she grabbed hers.

When they returned to Thorin and Gandalf the two were arguing. Gandalf claimed they were being hunted. They needed a quick escape. Bilbo desperately wished she was home. Ori reported the ponies had run off, escape seemed unlikely now.

“I’ll draw them off.” Radagast remarked.

“These are Gundabad Wargs; they will outrun you.” Gandalf said discouraging the mad man, sounding highly doubtful of Radagast’s capabilities.

“These are Rhosgobel Rabbits; I’d like to see them try.” Radagast smirked.

That didn’t make her feel better. Bilbo groaned, looking up the sky, was it even possible for this mad man to out run… the wolf things with his rabbits.

The company ran through the forest, their path parallel to Radagast and his bunnies. He tromped through the bushes on his sled, crying out “Come and get me! Ha ha!” The orcs and wolf things (wargs but she really didn’t want to believe that yet, though they were as massive as a pony) charged from behind him.

The company burst through the forest onto a grassy plain, Gandalf leading the way. Bilbo struggled running with her pack on. She wasn’t a runner. She had never done anything like this before. But she pushed herself on. They paused behind a rock and Bilbo bent over, catching her breath. When she got back to Devon she was going to buy a treadmill and work on her cardio, this was ridiculous.

“Come on! Quick!” Gandalf said urgently. Bilbo looked up from her position and caught Gandalf’s eyes; they twinkled. The sneaky bastard was up to something. Bilbo was certain of that. She didn’t have time to question it though. They were up and running again.

Charging ahead, Thorin caught up to Gandalf, “where are you leading us?” He demanded.

Not answering, Gandalf ushered them all to stand behind another outcropping and take cover.

That plan was abysmal. A warg appeared above them, Bilbo could admit they were wargs because the orcs weren’t riding ponies or anything else she had ever seen before. Pressed against the rock, directly behind Thorin, she saw him nod at Kili. The younger nephew, his bow nocked and ready, stepped out, aimed, and fired. The warg and its rider fell- but not quietly. The air filled with the screams and cries of the dying warg and orc.

Soon they were running for their lives and no mad man and his rabbits to distract the wargs. Bilbo laboured keeping up with the dwarves. If it wasn’t for the packs on their backs she had a feeling one of the dwarves would have carried her along. Whoever was behind her would push her along or drag her, forcing her match their pace.

The orcs surrounded them, closing in. Bilbo whimpered and pulled out her sword.

At once, without being told, Kili started shooting the orcs and wargs, taking them out one by one. There were many more though. More than he could possibly take on by himself. The dwarves drew their respective weapons.

“Where is Gandalf?” Kili asked. Attention concentrated on the orcs, he didn’t spare a moment to glance around.

Dwalin could though, and what he said made Bilbo’s blood run cold. “He has abandoned us!”

Bilbo stepped back, worriedly looking at the dwarves. Even ensconced behind them, Bilbo didn’t feel safe.

Ori used his slingshot and fired at one of the orcs; the orc laughed it off.

“Hold your ground!” Thorin bellowed.

Bilbo resisted the urge to retreat another step. They were already backing up against another rock outcropping. The forest they had run out of was nowhere to be seen. Gandalf had left them and now they were on their own. They could really use a wizard right now, Bilbo determined, maybe a fire spell, something that could save them from these orcs. Even elves, she would be happy if what happened in The Heirs of Durin happened here. It would be fantastic if the elves rode in and saved them.

Gandalf popped up behind her and she nearly had a heart attack. “This way, you fools!” Bilbo clutched at her pounding chest. This was not the time for surprises, not when orcs surrounded them.

Thorin looked back and noticed the wizard. He shouted to the company, “Come on, move! Quickly, all of you! Go, go, go!”

She followed after several dwarves, sliding down the rock. She plopped down at the bottom, skirt flouncing out; the dwarves helped her up. Gandalf counted every dwarf as they sled down. Thorin and then Kili were the last. Everyone looked helplessly at each other.

A horn blew, clear and resonant even in the cave, the sounds of battle filtered down.

An orc tumbled down the crack; an arrow embedded in its chest. Bilbo crept as close as dared, peering down at the foul creature that had attacked them. It was scarred and mutilated. It wasn’t pretty and it wasn’t something she wanted to see at night time. Thorin pulled the arrow out, looking it over, he grimaced. “Elves” he spat in disgust and tossed the arrow.

Bilbo looked up the crack, trying to catch a glimpse of the elves.

“I cannot see where the pathway leads.” Dwalin said, drawing Bilbo’s attention to the back of the cave. “Do we follow it or no?”

“Follow it, of course!” Bofur enthusiastically said. He grinned at her, “Let’s see where this tunnel leads.” He whispered.

“I think that would be wise.” Gandalf said.

Dwalin led the way out, taking them through the tunnel. It grew increasingly narrow, until only a few of them could walk side by side. Little cracks above kept the sunlight streaming in. The cracks widened, splitting open until they could see a wide valley.

Bilbo gasped. She stopped where she was. Gandalf bumped into her but she didn’t care.

Sensing her awe, Gandalf voiced her thoughts. “The Valley of Imraldis. In the Common Tongue, it’s known by another name.”

Bilbo breathed out, “Rivendell.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] I would love your feedback on the troll scene. I'd love your thoughts and opinions in general.
> 
> [2] I mixed the book and movie for what happened after the trolls.
> 
> Still looking for beta if anyone is interested.
> 
>  
> 
> You can follow me on Tumblr at [TheShinyLizard](http://theshinylizard.tumblr.com/)


	4. Is This Real Life?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All mistakes and errors are mine. I have no beta. If you'd like to beta that'd be great.
> 
> Thank you. And Enjoy!

After a wonderful feast with more food than Bilbo had seen in months two elf maidens escorted Bilbo to a separate section of the house- to a personal suite. It had a proper bed and a bathtub with working pipes. Bilbo was in heaven. The topper on all that was the balcony, with gauzy curtains that fluttered in the breeze. Out on the balcony, the valley stretched out before her. The bed was too inviting for Bilbo to stay outside for long. No sooner was her head on the pillow then she was asleep. The arduous journey had taken its toll and sleep, uninterrupted blissful sleep, was welcome.

When she woke up the sun was cresting over the hills in the valley, light reflecting off the water. If she were in Bag End in Devon she would have lingered in bed a little longer and basked in the warmth under her covers, enjoying the respite. But this wasn’t Bag End and for over a month she had woken up at the crack of dawn thanks to Thorin’s relentless drive. She tried to close her eyes and drift back to sleep but her body protested, accustomed to the schedule. There was nothing for her to do but get out of bed and start the day.

The first thing she did that morning was take advantage of the large bath. It was already filled with hot water and towels were hung up on the rack to the side. Bilbo scrubbed away the dirt. She soaked in the tub until her fingers were pruny, savouring the luxurious smell of lavender and sage from the soap. It was blissful to take time to relax.

Out of the tub, Bilbo dried off and then slipped into the chemise that the elves had left with the towels. Bilbo picked up the comb from the vanity and sat at the lounge chair near the balcony where she watched the sun rise over the valley. The only thing that could make this morning better would be a cup of tea and some toast.

Bilbo rolled her eyes. Here she was in Middle Earth and all she could contemplate was how if she had tea and toast then this would be the best morning. She was living in Middle Earth. Even months after coming to Middle Earth and going on the journey there were still these moments where she couldn’t believe that she was in Middle Earth. Who on Earth could say that they have been to a world where dragons, elves, and dwarves exist? She’s met three trolls and lived after beating them through cunning and wits.

This behaviour, running out the door to join a bunch of dwarves on an adventure, was more befitting of a Took than a Baggins. If her father was still alive and Bilbo had told him this story he would have smiled indulgently at his little bumblebee’s imagination while her mother would only encourage her and perhaps chastise her for leaving Middle Earth. Then again no one would’ve truly believed her.

It wasn’t like she could bring a souvenir back with her to Devon, could she? Gandalf wasn’t entirely clear in that regard. He didn’t say what she had to do to get home. The only insistence he made was for her to finish the quest. It was as if the quest to reclaim Erebor was more important than anything else. If so then it had to be essential for her to return home. She needed to speak to Gandalf at some point and clarify what she had to do to return home.

A series of soft knocks interrupted her musings.

“Miss Baggins?” An elf maiden called out.

“Yes?” Bilbo stood.

The maiden, Ereth, came in. She smiled demurely at Bilbo. Several clothes were draped over her arm. Bilbo didn’t recognize them.

“I took the liberty to bring you a new dress while your clothes are laundered, if that’s alright,” Ereth said. Last night the elf maidens had offered to clean her clothes and Bilbo had agreed to that.

Ereth laid the clothes out on the bed. There were three dresses for her to choose from and a set of undergarments; all of which were cleaner and far nicer than anything she had brought into Rivendell. The elf maiden assisted Bilbo in dressing in a fine pale green gown; the likes of which she hadn’t seen before she had reached Rivendell. The scant few seconds that Bilbo had in her closet in Bag End Bilbo didn’t take the opportunity to truly look at the clothes that a hobbit would wear; she snatched clothing that she thought she would need.

The dress was a tight fit across the chest and it fell long on her. Bilbo had to pick up the dress to move without worrying about stepping on her the hem. She twirled once in front of the mirror, looking herself over before grinning wide. Before Bilbo left for breakfast, Ereth arranged Bilbo’s hair. The curls were pulled back with small silver clips and the hair was adorned with several small beads.

On her way to breakfast, Ereth showed her the way through the maze that was Rivendell.

Fili and Kili came barrelling down a hallway with rolls in the mouths and a slice of ham in their hands. They nearly ran into the two ladies.

Fili stuttered to a stop. He tore the roll out of his mouth. “Bilbo?” He asked, looking her up and down with wide eyes.

Kili followed suit, tearing the roll from his mouth. “Bilbo, we’re so glad to see you.” Kili exclaimed. He grabbed her with one arm and lifted her up, balancing her on his hip.

Bilbo pushed ineffectually at Kili. She chuckled at the antics.

Pressed so closed to Kili she couldn’t help but notice that he smelled clean. Kili lowered her back to the ground; his arm dropped back to his side. “The elves wouldn’t let us see you last night” Kili looked up sceptically to Ereth . The elf maiden starred down at the trio with an amused smile.

“Were you safe?” Fili came up to her other side. The two dwarves blocked Ereth from Bilbo.

“Yes, yes, everything was fine.” Bilbo patted the brothers on the shoulder. She gave them a heartening smile.

“Miss Baggins was given a room in the east wing of the house,” Ereth spoke up.

“Oh,” The brothers shared a dubious look but they didn’t comment on it.

“You’re going to join us today though, right? The elves won’t keep you in a separate wing all the time right?” Kili asked, frowning.

“Miss Baggins is free to go where she will at Rivendell,” Ereth answered, nodding.

“We’ll see you at lunch then,” Kili turned a threatening eye to Ereth.

“I’ll see the two of you at lunch,” Bilbo said. Her stomach growled at the mention of food. The brothers grinned at the noise. Fili offered her a bite of his roll. Bilbo waved it off, she would get food at the table with the others.

“Where are you two off to this early?”

The brothers’ brows furrowed as they considered.

“Oh we’re going to-”

“We’re late!” Fili grabbed Kili’s hand and tugged his younger brother away.

“Bye Bilbo”

“We’ll see you at lunch.” The brothers called back.

“Uncle is not going to be happy,” Fili said as the two dashed around the bend. It was spoken in hushed tones but Bilbo still heard him. She frowned at that.

Thorin was often unhappy but oftentimes the she didn’t know why exactly. In the _Heirs of Durin_ his rancour could be traced back to the origins of the quest: a need to reclaim his homeland. In person it seemed harder to establish that as a constant source of annoyance for the taciturn dwarf. Sometimes it seemed Thorin’s ire was because of Bilbo’s dubious abilities or just from Bilbo herself. Sometimes she would be talking with a dwarf and Thorin would glare in her direction.

Bofur grinned when he saw her walk into the dining hall. “Bilbo,” he said. His smile widened as he took her in.

The source of Thorin’s displeasure dropped from her mind at the cheerful greeting. Changing from the dirty travel clothes and into something befitting an ethereal elf was a drastic difference.

“You’re a shiny sight this morning; the elves really got to you, didn’t they?” Bofur asked.

Bilbo ducked her head and blushed. On instinct she made to drag an errant curl behind her ear, only there wasn’t one, Ereth had arranged her hair so neatly that there were no way ward curls (at least none that weren’t on purpose). Bilbo took a seat in the empty chair next to Balin.

“We were about to go and find you and bring you to breakfast,” Nori said, making it sounded more like a threat than a casual comment. One that he would follow through on if she hadn’t shown up soon. There was every confidence that he would find her too. The rogue was an expert in his field. It was a wonder that they had a need for a burglar in the company.

Balin leaned close. “Don’t worry, we wouldn’t have let him go,” Balin said.

Bilbo chuckled at Balin’s reassurance. “Thank you,” She said, inclining her head so he heard her soft murmur.

It was the first chance that Bilbo had to look over the spread on the table. A variety of food was laid out before them. Nearest to her was the bread basket which contained a few rolls and slices of bread with nuts baked inside. Her stomach rolled at the sight and smell of the food. She slathered jam over a slice of bread, conscious of her stomach doing flip flops, enjoying the food but protesting it just the same.

“Your hair is well done, Bilbo,” Dori said. The compliment sounded stiff and formal.

Bilbo ran a hand over her hair, careful not to disturb the delicate placement of the clips and beads. For once she could actually see without having to drag her hair behind her ears. “Thank you, Dori, I didn’t do this,” said with a nervous chuckle.

“Oh?” Dori piqued.

Balin looked pointedly at the dwarf.

“Oh, you mean you didn’t braid it yourself?” Dori asked.

Bilbo shook her head.

“That’s alright, dear,” He said, “here have some toast and jam.” Dori passed the tray over.

Around the table was a chorus of agreement. Bilbo glanced around the table, looking for no one in particular. She couldn’t help but notice though besides Kili and Fili two other dwarfs were missing: Thorin and Dwalin.

“Where are the others?” Bilbo asked, head tilted close to Balin.

Balin stared at her quizzically.

“Thorin and Dwalin,” Bilbo clarified.

Balin nodded in understanding. “Ah, they’re out practicing.”

Well that would explain why they weren’t there. Not that she wanted them to be here beyond the desire to see them because she was used to seeing Thorin- she was used to seeing all of them. It didn’t matter that she was dressed impeccably for once and could actually make a grand impression this time, making up for the initial introduction.

Bilbo snuck out from breakfast as soon as she was able to. This was her first opportunity to explore a part of Middle Earth on her own.

It started with leaving the dwarves behind at breakfast. It wasn’t a simple task. The dwarves were curious about what she planned to do that day. Bilbo hastily made up an excuse before sauntering off. A part of her frowned at having lied to the dwarves. It wasn’t as if they were trying to keep her locked up. It couldn’t be helped though. She told them a lie, one which turned a few heads, and she had to move quickly or someone might try and join her.

It took sneaking and darting down several halls before she felt confident no one had followed her. If they had than she wouldn’t lose them now. She sighed and breathed in deeply- and giggled. She had no idea where she was in Rivendell.

Bilbo heard the clash and clang of metal on metal and followed it. She tiptoed along, hands clenched in her dress, looking down a hall before scampering on. The clanging grew louder as she approached a balcony. Voices swelled, below. Dwalin’s voice was distinct. The weapons master was cursing and snarling about two pups, presumably Kili and Fili. Metal clanged together again and Bilbo jolted at the loud sound.

A balcony was above a large dirt area; Bilbo stood on her tiptoes and peered over the railing.

Below her were Thorin, Dwalin, Kili, and Fili. Each dwarf’s heavy overcoat had been removed, allowing for quicker movement. Thorin was on the side line, his hands resting on Orcist. He observed Kili, Fili, and Dwalin. The two princelings were practicing with their swords and Dwalin was his using his axes.

Dwalin grunted. He urged them to attack. Fili went first, one sword crashing down from above and the other swinging to the side. Dwalin blocked and looked to Kili. The younger, using one blade compared to his brother’s two, lunged forward. The blade aimed at Dwalin’s chest but the burly dwarf easily parried the attack, throwing Kili’s sword off and to the right. Kili darted back, twisting his sword and aiming for Dwalin’s upper arm. Dwalin knocked it back with his hand. Kili lowered his sword and stepped back.

Dwalin wiped at his sweaty brow. He raised his sword. “Again,” he said.

Fili charged, swords arcing.

“Oh!” Someone gasped.

Surprised, Bilbo jerked and looked to her left. Ori was there. He was leaning on the railing, watching the practice. His eyes were locked on one dwarf in particular.

Metal crashed against metal again. Bilbo glanced down in time to see Dwalin throw the prince off.

“Ori?” Bilbo said softly, walking closer to the dwarf.

He tensed, eyes dragging over. “Bilbo,” he breathed out, relaxing when he saw who it was. “I-” He frantically said. He glanced back to her and then to Dwalin.

“You’re watching Dwalin practice?” Bilbo asked. She stepped next to him and looked down.

Ori nodded and said “yes.”

They were quiet for some time until Bilbo spoke up. “He’s a good fighter, isn’t he?” Bilbo asked.

Ori nodded, eyeing the bald dwarf. “Aye, Dwalin is one of the best,” he said wistfully. He plucked at a loose string on his sleeve, staring longingly at the dwarves below.

Bilbo blushed, looking away from Thorin. He was demonstrating something to the brothers. His gaze was sharp, catching everything as he watched his nephews training. His hair was gathered back and held together by a strip of weathered leather.

Kili and Fili nodded after the brief lesson, for once restrained in their demeanour. They worked together and charged Dwalin, challenging him as one. Dwalin grunted. The metal ringing as their weapons clashed.

Ori’s hands clenched together in worry as he watched the brothers attack Dwalin. Their assault seemed ferocious and dangerous in its intent as they worked together to charge Dwalin. Ori’s breath hitched as Kili pounced Dwalin from the side while Fili, attacking from the front, had Dwalin’s attention. The young princeling grinned brightly. He held his sword up high. Dwalin clutched at his side, affecting a defeat.

“Ori?” Bilbo asked, patting Ori on the shoulder.

“I’m not a great fighter,” He said as if it explained everything.

Even after all this time spent among the dwarves there was very little that Bilbo knew about them beyond what she had already known. None of that information could explain Ori’s dejection about not being a great fighter. Bilbo frowned, frustrated. “But you’re a scholar,” she stated, sounding doubtful.

“Right,” Ori agreed. He looked crestfallen.

Too bad she couldn’t search Google and find out why being a scholar was such a bad thing for a dwarf. It would be helpful if she could. It would save her time, especially since up until now she had been under the impression that being a scholar was a valued craft, respected and commended.

“You’re a scholar?” Bilbo reiterated, trying to grasp at what was wrong.

Ori nodded.

“What’s wrong with being a scholar?” “There’s nothing wrong with being a scholar,” he said. He looked at her queerly.

Bilbo glanced down at the dwarves practicing. Her brows pinching, she leaned closer to Ori, “what’s wrong then?” None of this added up. She was running around in circles trying to figure this out.

“Dwalin is a weapons master. That’s his craft.” Ori said. He stated it plainly so as to ease her confusion.

Bilbo stared at him, still puzzled. Her brow was furrowed in frustration as she waited for the coming explanation because there surely had to be one.

Ori flushed. He sighed and looked over the railing. “He’s a great weapons master and I’m a scholar,” Ori shook his head, “I can barely wield a weapon - let alone an axe.”

“Why would you have to?”

“How else am I supposed to prove myself and gain his approval?" Ori asked incredulously.

“What?”

Ori blushed and looked away. He murmured something she didn’t quite catch, “…One.”

“What?” She asked again. She leaned closer. A pointy ear aimed towards him.

“I think,” Ori stammered, wringing his hands, “that Dwalin’s my One.”

Bilbo stood up straight. “Really?” she asked, grinning widely. This was good news. Right? Although she had no idea what a One was.

“You can’t say anything.” Ori quickly said, waving his hands.

“Not a word.” Bilbo clasped his hands in hers. She looked him in the eyes and asked, “Now- what’s a One?”

His hands fell from hers. “You don’t- you don’t know?” Ori’s head tilted to the side and he looked at her disbelievingly.

Was it really that hard for the dwarves to understand that she didn’t know everything? She had come to terms with the fact that although this was Middle Earth, and technically her world, that she had a rather limited knowledge of it. Except, the dwarves didn’t know that. Ori probably considered this to be common knowledge: Dwarves and Ones. She needed a lesson on common knowledge in Middle Earth. Maybe it was tradition for dwarves to take perfectly respectable hobbits on their quests.

“Honestly, Ori?” Bilbo looked at him with all seriousness and shrugged, “I have no clue.”

“Oh,” he squeaked. He composed himself and stood as tall as he could even though he was already taller than her. “When Mahal first made dwarves out of stone; some of the stones were chipped. He didn’t want to send a weak dwarf so Mahal struck the stone and broke it in half. Out of one stone came two dwarves. These two dwarves are whole and hale, just like any other dwarf out there. But when they meet their other half, their One, something snaps into place and although they might not have realized it before, something was missing, and now,” Ori smiled wistfully, glancing down at Dwalin, “they found it.”

Bilbo smiled. Ori’s adoring grin was infectious. “Was it like that for you?” she asked.

He nodded earnestly and added, “It’s the one person a dwarf loves and cherishes, your heart’s treasure. My santhak,” he looked down to Dwalin, “my azaghûn.”

The notion of One’s sounded an awful lot like soul mates: the one person you’re meant to be with.

When she was younger Bilbo had dreamed of meeting her soul mate. She had fantasized about what they would look like and how they acted. She had taken a few chances, gone on a few dates. None of them worked out though. It had been a few years since she had gone out on a date. It wasn’t that she had given up on the search. She had simply stopped looking, figuring the right person would come along at some point and until then she would have to wait, much to her cousin’s chagrin. Lobelia was adamant that Bilbo find someone.

25 years old was not the threshold of being an old maid but try telling that to cousin Lobelia. Lobelia was already married and had a child and she was only a year younger than Bilbo. Lobelia insisted on setting Bilbo up with any Tomas, Dickens, or Hared who met Lobelia’s standards. Lobelia didn’t think it was proper for Bag End to have a lady Baggins living there by herself. Never mind the fact that the suitors Lobelia chose oftentimes worked in London or another city. If any of those suitors worked out it would have forced Bilbo to choose between her childhood home and the man she loved. Luckily, Bilbo was not interested in any of the men that Lobelia chosen. Some of the men were attractive. Very few of them were memorable. But not a single one of them was right.

A loud clang rang out. Bilbo peered over the rail. Dwalin was smacking his two axes together as he smirked at Thorin. Fili and Kili were off to the side. Kili was biting his bottom lip, watching his uncle challenge the weapons master.

Thorin and Dwalin circled each other. Thorin wielded Orcist. Dwalin had his two axes in hand.

“Ori,” Bilbo looked back to him.

“Yes, Miss Bilbo?” He asked.

“Why do you have to learn to wield a weapon?”

Ori fiddled with his sleeves. “I want him to see that I’m not just a scribe- that I can defend myself. I want him to think of me as a great warrior,” Ori ducked his head.

Bilbo stared incredulously at him but restrained herself from making any crass remarks. Sad to say but there was better chance of the Queen doing a jig than there was for Dwalin seeing Ori as a great warrior. It was a long shot but sometimes underdogs win.

“Alright,” Bilbo said, thrumming her fingers on the railing. “So you would learn to wield an axe and then show your skills to Dwalin- and when he approves?” Bilbo asked. She was all but certain that Dwalin would approve.

Ori beamed. “If he approves then we’re intended and we’re courting.”

“Is there anything else you could learn? Maybe something other than a weapon?”

Ori listed off the other tasks he could do to court Dwalin, counting them off with his fingers. He could defend Dwalin in battle, showing he could protect Dwalin. He could amass a large wealth and show Dwalin that he could provide for them. Or if none of those worked he could go to Dwalin or his family and ask for a quest, anything to prove his worthiness. And approaching Dwalin’s family meant approaching Balin, Ori’s mentor, and the king since he was Dwalin’s brother in arms.

The frown on Bilbo’s face deepened as he tallied each option. None of them seemed to work in his favour. He could try the asking the family for a quest but he was already on one. There had to be something. There had to be some way for them to get together. The two were blind idiots. Bilbo slumped and leaned on the rail. Dwalin charged Thorin, attacking him before Thorin could strike first.

Hazel eyes widening, Bilbo glanced back to Ori. “What if he courts you first?” She asked excitedly.

Ori gaped, mouth opening and closing; he blushed and looked away from her.

Bilbo bit her lip to hide her grin.

“He wouldn’t,” Ori said, glancing sidelong at her. “Mister Dwalin is amazing; he could have any dwarf he wants. He wouldn’t…” Ori stopped and shook his head. “He wouldn’t court a scribe. I’m his brother’s apprentice- I’m not even a journeymen scribe.”

Crossing his arms on top of the railing, Ori laid his chin on them and looked down, watching the fight.

“Oh Ori,” Bilbo whispered under her breath. She sighed heavily and stood next to Ori and looked over the railing.

It was a wicked dance that Thorin and Dwalin played as they circled one another. They were a synchronized pair, knowing exactly how much the other could handle and yet not holding back. Occasionally they would pause and demonstrate something for the two princelings.

Fili, still standing on the sidelines, said something to Dwalin. Dwalin’s eyes flicked up. It was a brief glance and then he looked back to Thorin. The look on face changed to one far more menacing. Dwalin growled something in Khuzdul at Thorin. Thorin’s steely blue gaze darted up. Bilbo gasped. She stepped back from the railing, surely out of sight of the dwarves below. She waited a moment before taking the chance to look over the railing again. Thorin and Dwalin stared each other down. Their stances were altered.

This time when they attacked it was a vicious war. Dwalin took advantage of the two axes and his familiarity with Thorin to push the other dwarf back. Thorin, lighter on his feet than Dwalin, circled around, darting a blow at Dwalin’s chest before breaking away and stepping out of Dwalin’s long reach. The two fought harder, metal clanging with intent.

“Thorin,” Bilbo whispered, covering her mouth. If they weren’t careful they would injure each other. She turned away, stepping back from the railing and the melee below.

“Miss Bilbo?” Ori asked, coming to her side.

“It’s nothing,” Bilbo said. She shook her head and straightened up, “I’ll see you at lunch. Maybe afterward we could explore Rivendell.”

Looking over the railing and then back to her, Ori nodded, “Sure, if you don’t mind the company?”

“You are always welcome, Ori,” Bilbo smiled genially at him before leaving down a hall, not knowing where it would lead her. She paused and looked back to Ori and the practice area. Bilbo pursed her lips and before she could reconsider she dashed down the hall and took the stairs. The ground area was more open and she was able to locate the practice area easily.

Bilbo walked around the training area. Elves practiced off to the side: shooting arrows or skirmishing using various other weapons. Several elves stood to the side of the dwarves training area, watching it like a spectator match. They cheered on Thorin and Dwalin, shouting out suggestions.

Fili and Kili were off to the side. They were speaking with two elves of such similar appearance that the only plausible explanation was that they were twins. Noticing her approach, Fili and Kili smirked. Bilbo huffed indignantly.

“Miss Bilbo,” Kili greeted her, his tone flirtatious.

“Miss Bilbo, you’re shining today,” Fili said in a similar manner.

Bilbo huffed. She wouldn’t respond to their teasing. Living, sleeping, and eating with the two had destroyed any sexual attraction that might have been there.

One time when a bird kept making noises during the night, these high irritating sounds that had Bilbo cupping her hands over her ears in hope that she could fall asleep, Kili decided to learn the bird’s call. The next night when the company was going to sleep and Fili and Kili had first watch, the bird calls started. Once they started the surrounding woods woke up. There was noise everywhere and it took a while for the noise to die down. Meanwhile Fili and Kili sat in amazement and listened to the ambience while the rest of the company struggled to close their eyes and fall asleep. The company barely got a wink of sleep that night. The next morning when Kili showed the bird call off to Ori, who then told Nori and Bofur, and Dwalin heard him too. Thorin harangued Kili for the rest of the day.

“Boys,” Bilbo said, adopting a matronly tone. They wouldn’t listen to her if she tried being sweet.

The brothers exchanged a glance. “Yes, Miss Bilbo?” Fili asked.

Bilbo risked a glance up to the balcony- it was now or never. She took a deep breath and levelled a stern look at the two mischievous princelings. “I need to speak with Dwalin,” She said with all the authority she could muster.

The two looked sceptically at the practice ring. Kili said something in Khuzdul to his brother. Fili nodded his head, tapping his chin. He muttered, “I think that’ll work.”

“Alright,” they said to her in surround sound.

“Take these,” Kili said. He handed her his bow and quiver of arrows. Bilbo slung the quiver over her shoulder and held the bow in hand. Then Kili took off his overcoat and Bilbo offered up an arm for him to drape it over. Fili pulled out his knives that were secreted in various places on his person and took off his axe, handing those over to her. He also took off his overcoat and Bilbo huffed but held out her arm and he draped the overcoat on top of Kili’s. Adjusting the weight, Bilbo braced and bore the load of their weapons and coats.

“Ready?” Fili asked his younger brother.

Kili smirked and nodded.

Swords at the ready, the brothers charged into the practice ring. Thorin and Dwalin paused for a moment but they quickly adapted to the additional opponents. Kili went for his uncle, distracting him. Kili said something in Khuzdul to Thorin who looked over Kili’s shoulder and right at Bilbo. Bilbo stared back at him. Fili ran to Dwalin and defended himself against Dwalin’s attacks, speaking lowly. Dwalin nodded curtly. With a final strike at Fili, Dwalin ran out of the ring and over to Bilbo. Thorin wasn’t entirely distracted by his nephew; his eyes narrowed on Dwalin as he watched his original opponent leave the ring.

“Heard you needed to talk to me,” Dwalin gruffly said, wiping the sweat off his brow and looking fervently back to the ring.

Bilbo scrunched her nose at the odour emanating off Dwalin. She huffed under the weight of Kili and Fili’s clothes and weapons but did not offer it off to Dwalin; he going to return to the ring. “It’s about Ori,” She said.

Dwalin’s head jerked and he peered down at her, crossing his arms. “What about?” Dwalin asked, sounding dubious.

Not about to be scared off of her self-appointed mission Bilbo continued on. She stated plainly, “We’re going to walk around Rivendell.”

Dwalin’s brow rose, “and?”

“Ori and I,” Bilbo said, enunciating each word carefully, “are going to walk around Rivendell after lunch.”

Dwalin stared at her in silence, looking her over; his eyes narrowed.

Bilbo groaned and she glanced plaintively to the ceiling. “Join Ori and me after lunch.” Bilbo pointed at each person in turn, glaring at Dwalin. Maybe now he would catch her drift.

She gritted her teeth and turned around, not giving Dwalin a chance to argue. She huffed and went back the way she came. It was like talking to a Neanderthal. She had to explicitly tell him what to do. Had all of the signs been wrong? Bilbo nervously looked back. Dwalin was back in the ring again. Thorin was lashing out at him, striking at him mercilessly. There was no room for error in Dwalin’s movements. Fili and Kili, seeing their uncle on a rampage, joined in the fray against Thorin, pushing him back. Bilbo bit her lip. Something had Thorin chuffed.

Starting for the stairs, Bilbo paused and registered the heavy weight on her arms. She groaned and carried on. The two would come for their stuff at some point. It was their fault she still had the stuff. They burdened her with their stuff- she wasn’t a storage locker. Bilbo adjusted the two coats. She slipped the knives into pockets on Fili’s coat, freeing an arm. Even so she still didn’t want to have to wander around Rivendell carrying an armouries worth of weapons; she wasn’t a pack mule- nor was she their mother for them to load down with- stuff.

All of Fili and Kili’s items she deposited on a bench near the training grounds. Unloading her burden was a relief; Bilbo rubbed at her arms.

Bilbo adjusted her dress. The clothing, even though it was Elvish made, was still mildly uncomfortable. Wearing trousers and walking around in a jumper were more her style than wearing dresses which she had been doing for months on end now. At least she had a pair of trousers in her bag for if she had to change. Too bad women hadn’t started wearing trousers here. She would write it into the story but it wouldn’t fit the aesthetic of the time.

Bilbo went up the stairs and glanced around, unclear as to where she would go or what she would do. This was Rivendell and she hadn’t explored much of it. She could continue on her tour. When nothing else popped in mind as to how she could spend her day, Bilbo walked down a hall at random, following her heart.

Rivendell was vast. One hallway would have multiple rooms and sometimes she didn’t see anyone, elf, dwarf, or wizard, for a while. Other times she found a room with a group of elves inside and one of them would nod in acknowledgement, smiling briefly. Bilbo would nod back but she never went further into the room. She always stayed just inside the door way, watching the elves. Some of them were singing and playing instruments. There was a quaint quartet in one room; an elf maiden playing on a tall silver harp. The skill the elves had was impressive. She rarely heard a faulty note.

In one room, on the wall was a tableau of a great battle. There were elves and humans in a vicious battle against creatures that were tall and grotesque with scabby looking skin. Fire erupted from a volcano in the distance. Ash fell, darkening the sky. A figure armoured in black was prominent, striking against the elves and humans. The tableau went around the whole room. It even went up a set of stairs.

In the tableau, a human man raised his blade against the figure in black and then there was no more. Bilbo frowned. She had reached the climax of the tableau but there was no resolution, the story wasn’t finished.

Bilbo turned around, looking for something to explain the ending. There. In the centre of the room was a statue of a woman looking down mournfully. In her hands was a tray. On it were the broken shards of a sword. Bilbo puzzled at that. She reached out to touch the edge-

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you.”

Bilbo jumped. She tucked her hands behind herself and turned around.

It was a man- a human man- in Rivendell. He had a chin length dark hair and dark eyes. He looked young, couldn’t be older than 26.

Bilbo blinked. This was the first human she had seen since the ride past those strange men.

The man chuckled. He held out his hand. “I’m Elessar,” he said.

Bilbo glanced down at his hand before warily shaking it. “Bilbo,” She said. She dropped his hand.

“You’re with the dwarves?” Elessar asked.

Bilbo nodded.

“Dwarves don’t usually venture through here,” Elessar said, stating it more like a question, an eyebrow raised in curiosity.

Bilbo snorted. It was no wonder that dwarves wouldn’t visit often when elves lived here. If this was a dwarf mountain the place would have been overflowing with distant relatives and far off relations. Of all things, the animosity between elves and dwarves was legendary. While the two races might be amiable to each other they would never be best mates. An elf being best mates with a dwarf, that would be a rare day indeed- hell would freeze over. Or actually that might work. What if a warrior of each race fought alongside each other, they would be shield brothers. There was a chance that that could work.

“Are you alright?” Elessar asked.

“Oh, yes, I’m fine,” Bilbo said. She was simply getting lost in her imagination. Which being in Middle Earth was actually odd. She was lost in her imagination while in an imaginary land that she imagined- that was some inception going on there.

"Do you know about the battle on the wall?”

“Ah, there you are Bilbo,” Gandalf swept into the room. He paused, looking at the man, “and I see you’ve met Aragorn.”

Aragorn’s eyes narrowed, “Gandalf,” he said.

“I’m glad I found you Bilbo, Lunch will be starting soon,” Gandalf said.

Bilbo resisted the urge to roll her eyes at Gandalf’s indifference to Aragorn’s irritation.

“If you’ll follow me,” Gandalf said.

“Certainly.” Bilbo was excited to have a chance to be alone with him. She would finally have time to talk about how to return home.

Bilbo shook hands with Aragorn, “I’ll see you again sometime.”

They parted ways.

Bilbo trailed at Gandalf’s side, taking two steps for every one of his.

“Good morning,” she said mockingly, recalling that morning in Devon that now seemed so long ago.

It earned her a genuine chuckle as they walked to the dining rooms.

By her reckoning, she had been in Middle Earth well over a month now. The moon had gone through a complete cycle and was close to changing again.

Over the course of the month there were some things she had grown accustomed to: like the dwarves and Khuzdul (which wasn’t too bad since people spoke in their native tongue to each other even in Devon), Gandalf being batty, and the fact that he was a wizard, which reminded her- she needed a smart wizard in Middle Earth, a proper one- and she grew used to wearing dresses so as not to upset anyone’s sensibilities. There were modern things that would’ve been of use, her mobile for instant communication and GPS, Google (Google translate if it worked on Khuzdul), and cars, something other than riding on pony back at least. She could live without them, was living without them. She still missed them though.

Thing is though, Gandalf had brought her here, now why hadn’t he brought her back, or at least given her a time frame. The end of the quest seemed a likely finish point but she wasn’t certain. Maybe he had other ideas and wanted her to live in Middle Earth to the end of her days. Living as a hobbit among dwarves, Bilbo shuddered and cast a worried glance at Gandalf. Surely his intentions were not so cruel as to leave her here indefinitely.

“Gandalf,” Bilbo said, catching his attention.

“Hmm?” He peered down at her.

Bilbo was silent for a moment as she carefully choose her words, “you brought me here?”

“Yes.” He nodded. They turned onto one of the many outer walkways in Rivendell that faced the inner sanctuary.

“And you can take me back?” Bilbo asked.

Gandalf rubbed at his chin. “Well- in a way, yes.”

“How so?”

“When everything is done and you wish to leave Middle Earth.”

“Wish to leave?” Bilbo gaped, “I wish to leave right now,” she said.

If she could leave right then instant she would. She had already learned a great deal about the characters. They would certainly be better written now, and their adventure would have a more humorous tone too, not one with death at every corner.

“And yet,” Gandalf paused, looking down at her amusedly, eyes twinkling infuriatingly, “everything is not done.”

“When will everything be done then? How will I know?”

“You will- until then,” Gandalf pushed open a door and the smell of food wafted through the air, “Rivendell has an extensive library,” he said, piquing her interest.

Bilbo looked away. Her brows furrowed together, a library, all books about Middle Earth, it would help her. “I’ll have to-”

“Bilbo!” Kili exclaimed upon seeing her, excitedly bouncing out of his chair. Fili sighed with relief.

Bilbo took a step back in surprise. Well she hadn’t expected an enthusiastic welcome at lunch.

Gandalf left her side, chuckling softly to himself. He took a seat at the larger table with a bunch of elves. Lord Elrond was not among those in attendance. Another tall elf with dark hair was standing by the dwarves. He looked exasperated as he watched the company.

Setting up Dwalin and Ori was proving to be a task. There had to be an easy way but trying to have the two by themselves was impossible since Ori would suddenly be mute in Dwalin’s presence if no one was there.

During lunch, Bilbo kept a surreptitious eye on Ori and Dwalin. The two were constantly exchanging glances when they thought the other wasn’t looking and when they caught each other looking, Ori would duck his head and blush and Dwalin would reach for something to his side, acting like it was his original intention all along.

Bilbo caught the irate look on Thorin’s face. Being the target of Thorin’s displeasure wasn’t a new thing. She wouldn’t let it ruin her day. She huffed and sat up straighter.

Lunch finished quickly. Nori stayed for a little bit, keeping an eye on Ori and her but he too eventually left, thankfully without prompting. He kept casting odd glances in her direction though but he never asked her anything. He wasn’t her primary focus at the moment though so that curiosity would have to wait. She waited until only four of them were left: Dwalin, Thorin (for the life of her Bilbo did understand why he was still there when his nephews had pestered him about some fountain), Ori, and her. Dwalin chewed slowly on the last of his lunch. At the far end of the table was a tray of cooked rabbit which Thorin and Dwalin were sharing.

“Ori, did you know that they have a room depicting a battle here?” Bilbo said loud enough that Dwalin would hear.

Ori’s looked askance at her, “There is?” he asked. His curiosity piqued.

Bilbo nodded. “It’ll take a bit to find it but we should be able to.”

“Oh- and why is that?” Dwalin asked. He stood up and walked over to them, crossing his ham like arms and leaning against the table. “Did you get lost along the way or something?” He snorted.

“She’s our burglar, let’s hope she doesn’t get so easily lost,” Thorin said. He stood up and walked over, standing next to Dwalin, and stared down at her.

Bilbo frowned. Did Thorin really have nowhere else to be; she was trying to set someone up. He was going to ruin her plans. Bilbo scoffed at the affront.

“I found it when I was exploring,” Bilbo explained. She stood up and matched Thorin’s imperious glare with one of her own.

“Well, let’s go,” Dwalin said.

“Do you remember anything about the way there, Bilbo?” Ori asked.

“It was along the music halls.”

“Music halls?” Thorin asked.

“Yes, there were elves practicing down there, I just don’t remember where they were though,” Bilbo said. It was too bad she didn’t have a string or some bread crumbs to mark her way.

It was a pleasant walk through Rivendell. They went down the same hall Bilbo took in the morning. She avoided going towards the practice area, other dwarves might be there now. Instead she took them towards where she thought the musical hall was. The group was quiet with the occasional murmur from Ori or her as they marveled at Rivendell. Thorin and Dwalin were a silent presence. Dwalin stuck to Ori’s side. His face was soft and there seemed to be a soft smile tugging at his lips. Thorin took to being Bilbo’s companion.

At one point they found themselves outside. They gazed over the balconies after Bilbo insisted and Thorin relented to the request. He stood next to her while she leaned on the railing. Rivendell really was beautiful. She could stand there and gaze at the world forever.

“It really is beautiful, isn’t it?” Bilbo said, talking no one in particular.

“Yes, it is,” Thorin said, looking at her.

Nervous, Bilbo tried to tuck her hair behind her ear again, only to brush back nothing. Thorin chuckled; Bilbo blushed, looking away from him.

Bilbo fidgeted with the dress’ long sleeves.

“Your dress is beautifully crafted. What hobbit made it?” Thorin asked.

“It’s elven,” Bilbo said.

“Oh,” Thorin said; his hands clenched and he looked away from her.

Standing so close to him, Bilbo could sense little details that she had never noticed before like the fact that Thorin’s eyes were a fiery blue with a band of gold around the iris and that an earthy scent lingered around him.

Meanwhile, Dwalin and Ori were talking about the various weapons that Dwalin carried with him everywhere. He had one of his axes out and was showing off Biter to Ori. Ori had a grin on his face and looked eager to touch and pick the axe up but he kept his hands to himself.

Bilbo worried at her bottom lip, watching the two of them together was both adorable and frustrating.

Trying to shove the two together wouldn’t work and would just throw a wrench in the plan. The process was going to take a while but hopefully they would be together before the company reached the mountain. Too bad she couldn’t give Dwalin a paper ostensibly from Ori saying: do you like me y/n? No one in Middle Earth would understand that but the thought did make Bilbo smile if only for a moment.

It was nice to simply have this moment where she didn’t have to worry about anything. She could enjoy the world without a care. Bilbo turned her head up towards the sun and basked in its glow. Forget about Club Med or going to the Riveria, take her to Rivendell any day. There truly was such a thing as a no technology vacation and she had found it. Bilbo closed her eyes and took a deep breath. The smells of the valley were soft and subtle: lavender, crisp water, and something else entirely earthy that she couldn’t quite name but it smelled just like summer.

“Hobbits enjoy the sunlight?” Thorin asked; his voice soft as if not wanting to interrupt her moment.

Bilbo opened her eyes and looked at Thorin. She grinned, nodding her head vigorously. “I love the sunlight,” she said. She clasped the railing and leaned back. It was like she was a kid again. The world was open before her.

Thorin was quiet again; Bilbo glanced from the valley to him, “do dwarves like the sun?”

Thorin snorted. “We live in mountains,” he said.

“That doesn’t mean you can’t like the sun,” Bilbo said. She turned back to the valley and crossed her arms over the railing. She was in no rush to get to the painted room. They had all the time in the world it seemed like. The quest was but a distant memory here.

That first night back in Bag End seemed so far away now. There were times when she couldn’t believe that she was talking with a character from a book but standing there, looking over the valley, Middle Earth was real.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [1] I know that Aragorn does not appear in the hobbit but I hope you don't mind the character showing up.
> 
> [2] This is not the only chapter about Rivendell. There will be more.
> 
> Still looking for beta if anyone is interested.
> 
>  
> 
> You can follow me on Tumblr at [TheShinyLizard](http://theshinylizard.tumblr.com/)


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